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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/16777-8.txt b/16777-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3009ce3 --- /dev/null +++ b/16777-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8729 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Heart of the Desert, by Honoré Willsie +Morrow, Illustrated by V. Herbert Dunton + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Heart of the Desert + Kut-Le of the Desert + + +Author: Honoré Willsie Morrow + + + +Release Date: September 30, 2005 [eBook #16777] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HEART OF THE DESERT*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustration. + See 16777-h.htm or 16777-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/7/7/16777/16777-h/16777-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/7/7/16777/16777-h.zip) + + + + + +THE HEART OF THE DESERT + +(Kut-Le of the Desert) + +by + +HONORÉ WILLSIE + +Author of "Still Jim" + +With Frontispiece in Colors by V. Herbert Dunton + +A. L. Burt Company, Publishers +114-120 East Twenty-third Street ---- New York +Published by Arrangement with Frederick A. Stokes Company + +1913 + + + + + + + +[Frontispiece: Side by side, they rode off into the desert sunset.] + + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER + + I THE VALLEY OF THE PECOS + II THE CAUCASIAN WAY + III THE INDIAN AND CAUCASIAN + IV THE INDIAN WAY + V THE PURSUIT + VI ENTERING THE DESERT KINDERGARTEN + VII THE FIRST LESSON + VIII A BROADENING HORIZON + IX TOUCH AND GO + X A LONG TRAIL + XI THE TURN IN THE TRAIL + XII THE CROSSING TRAILS + XIII AN INTERLUDE + XIV THE BEAUTY OF THE WORLD + XV AN ESCAPE + XVI ADRIFT IN THE DESERT + XVII THE HEART'S OWN BITTERNESS + XVIII THE FORGOTTEN CITY + XIX THE TRAIL AGAIN + XX THE RUINED MISSION + XXI THE END OF THE TRAIL + + + + +The Heart of the Desert + + +CHAPTER I + +THE VALLEY OF THE PECOS + +Rhoda hobbled through the sand to the nearest rock. On this she sank +with a groan, clasped her slender foot with both hands and looked about +her helplessly. + +She felt very small, very much alone. The infinite wastes of yellow +desert danced in heat waves against the bronze-blue sky. The girl saw +no sign of living thing save a buzzard that swept lazily across the +zenith. She turned dizzily from contemplating the vast emptiness about +her to a close scrutiny of her injured foot. She drew off her thin +satin house slipper painfully and dropped it unheedingly into a bunch +of yucca that crowded against the rock. Her silk stocking followed. +Then she sat in helpless misery, eying her blue-veined foot. + +In spite of her evident invalidism, one could but wonder why she made +so little effort to help herself. She sat droopingly on the rock, +gazing from her foot to the far lavender line of the mesas. A tiny, +impotent atom of life, she sat as if the eternal why which the desert +hurls at one overwhelmed her, deprived her of hope, almost of +sensation. There was something of nobility in the steadiness with +which she gazed at the melting distances, something of pathos in her +evident resignation, to her own helplessness and weakness. + +The girl was quite unconscious of the fact that a young man was +tramping up the desert behind her. He, however, had spied the white +gown long before Rhoda had sunk to the rock and had laid his course +directly for her. He was a tall fellow, standing well over six feet +and he swung through the heavy sand with an easy stride that covered +distance with astonishing rapidity. As he drew near enough to perceive +Rhoda's yellow head bent above her injured foot, he quickened his pace, +swung round the yucca thicket and pulled off his soft felt hat. + +"Good-morning!" he said. "What's the matter?" + +Rhoda started, hastily covered her foot, and looked up at the tall +khaki-clad figure. She never had seen the young man before, but the +desert is not formal. + +"A thing like a little crayfish bit my foot," she answered; "and you +don't know how it hurts!" + +"Ah, but I do!" exclaimed the young man. "A scorpion sting! Let me +see it!" + +Rhoda flushed. + +"Oh, never mind that!" she said. "But if you will go to the Newman +ranch-house for me and ask them to send the buckboard I'll be very +grateful. I--I feel dizzy, you know." + +"Gee whiz!" exclaimed the young man. "There's no time for me to run +about the desert if you have a scorpion sting in your foot!" + +"Is a scorpion sting dangerous?" asked Rhoda. Then she added, +languidly, "Not that I mind if it is!" + +The young man gave her a curious glance. Then he pulled a small case +from his pocket, knelt in the sand and lifted Rhoda's foot in one +slender, strong, brown hand. The instep already was badly swollen. + +"Hold tight a minute!" said the young man. + +And before Rhoda could protest he had punctured the red center of the +swelling with a little scalpel, had held the cut open and had filled it +with a white powder that bit. Then he pulled a clean handkerchief from +his pocket and tore it in two. With one half he bound the ankle above +the cut tightly. With the other he bandaged the cut itself. + +"Are you a doctor?" asked Rhoda faintly. + +"Far from it," replied the young man with a chuckle, tightening the +upper bandage until Rhoda's foot was numb. "But I always carry this +little outfit with me; rattlers and scorpions are so thick over on the +ditch. Somebody's apt to be hurt anytime. I'm Charley Cartwell, Jack +Newman's engineer." + +"Oh!" said Rhoda understandingly. "I'm so dizzy I can't see you very +well. This is very good of you. Perhaps now you'd go on and get the +buckboard. Tell them it's for Rhoda, Rhoda Tuttle. I just went out +for a walk and then--" + +Her voice trailed into nothingness and she could only steady her +swaying body with both hands against the rock. + +"Huh!" grunted young Cartwell. "I go on to the house and leave you +here in the boiling sun!" + +"Would you mind hurrying?" asked Rhoda. + +"Not at all," returned Cartwell. + +He plucked the stocking and slipper from the yucca and dropped them +into his pocket. Then he stooped and lifted Rhoda across his broad +chest. This roused her. + +"Why, you can't do this!" she cried, struggling to free herself. + +Cartwell merely tightened his hold and swung out at a pace that was +half run, half walk. + +"Close your eyes so the sun won't hurt them," he said peremptorily. + +Dizzily and confusedly, Rhoda dropped her head back on the broad +shoulder and closed her eyes, with a feeling of security that later on +was to appall her. Long after she was to recall the confidence of this +moment with unbelief and horror. Nor did she dream how many weary days +and hours she one day was to pass with this same brazen sky over her, +this same broad shoulder under her head. + +Cartwell looked down at the delicate face lying against his breast, at +the soft yellow hair massed against his sleeve. Into his black eyes +came a look that was passionately tender, and the strong brown hand +that supported Rhoda's shoulders trembled. + +In an incredibly short time he was entering the peach orchard that +surrounded the ranch-house. A young man in white flannels jumped from +a hammock in which he had been dozing. + +"For heaven's sake!" he exclaimed. "What does this mean?" + +Rhoda was too ill to reply. Cartwell did not slack his giant stride +toward the house. + +"It means," he answered grimly, "that you folks must be crazy to let +Miss Tuttle take a walk in clothes like this! She's got a scorpion +sting in her foot." + +The man in flannels turned pale. He hurried along beside Cartwell, +then broke into a run. + +"I'll telephone to Gold Rock for the doctor and tell Mrs. Newman." + +He started on ahead. + +"Never mind the doctor!" called Cartwell. "I've attended to the sting. +Tell Mrs. Jack to have hot water ready." + +As Cartwell sprang up the porch steps, Mrs. Newman ran out to meet him. +She was a pretty, rosy girl, with brown eyes and curly brown hair. + +"Rhoda! Kut-le!" she cried. "Why didn't I warn her! Put her on the +couch here in the hall, Kut-le. John, tell Li Chung to bring the +hot-water bottles. Here, Rhoda dear, drink this!" + +For half an hour the three, with Li Chung hovering in the background, +worked over the girl. Then as they saw her stupor change to a natural +sleep, Katherine gave a sigh that was almost a sob. + +"She's all right!" she said. "O Kut-le, if you hadn't come at that +moment!" + +Cartwell shook his head. + +"It might have gone hard with her, she's so delicate. Gee, I'm glad I +ran out of tobacco this morning and thought a two-mile tramp across the +desert for it worth while!" + +The three were on the porch now. The young man in flannels, who had +said little but had obeyed orders explicitly eyed Cartwell curiously. + +"You're Newman's engineer, aren't you?" he asked. "My name's DeWitt. +You've put us all under great obligations, this morning." + +Cartwell took the extended hand. + +"Well, you know," he said carefully, "a scorpion sting may or may not +be serious. People have died of them. Mrs. Jack here makes no more of +them than of a mosquito bite, while Jack goes about like a drunken +sailor with one for a day, then forgets it. Miss Tuttle will be all +right when she wakes up. I'm off till dinner time, Mrs. Jack. Jack +will think I've reverted!" + +DeWitt stood for a moment watching the tall, lithe figure move through +the peach-trees. He was torn by a strange feeling, half of aversion, +half of charm for the dark young stranger. Then: + +"Hold on, Cartwell," he cried. "I'll drive you back in the buckboard." + +Katherine Newman, looking after the two, raised her eyebrows, shook her +head, then smiled and went back to Rhoda. + +It was mid-afternoon when Rhoda woke. Katherine was sitting near by +with her sewing. + +"Well!" said Rhoda wonderingly. "I'm all right, after all!" + +Katherine jumped up and took Rhoda's thin little hand joyfully. + +"Indeed you are!" she cried. "Thanks to Kut-le!" + +"Thanks to whom?" asked Rhoda. "It was a tall young man. He said his +name was Charley Cartwell." + +"Yup!" answered Katherine. "Charley Cartwell! His other name is +Kut-le. He'll be in to dinner with Jack, tonight. Isn't he +good-looking, though!" + +"I don't know. I was so dizzy I couldn't see him. He seemed very +dark. Is he a Spaniard?" + +"Spaniard! No!" Katherine was watching Rhoda's languid eyes half +mischievously. "He's part Mescallero, part Pueblo, part Mohave!" + +Rhoda sat erect with flaming face. + +"You mean that he's an Indian and I let him carry me! Katherine!" + +The mischief in Katherine's brown eyes grew to laughter. + +"I thought that would get a rise out of you, you blessed tenderfoot! +What difference does that make? He rescued you from a serious +predicament; and more than that he's a fine fellow and one of Jack's +dearest friends." + +Rhoda's delicate face still was flushed. + +"An Indian! What did John DeWitt say?" + +"Oh!" said Katherine, carelessly, "he offered to drive Kut-le back to +the ditch, and he hasn't got home yet. They probably will be very +congenial, John being a Harvard man and Kut-le a Yale!" + +Rhoda's curved lips opened, then closed again. The look of interest +died from her eyes. + +"Well," she said in her usual weary voice, "I think I'll have a glass +of milk, if I may. Then I'll go out on the porch. You see I'm being +all the trouble to you, Katherine, that I said I would be." + +"Trouble!" protested Katherine. "Why, Rhoda Tuttle, if I could just +see you with the old light in your eyes I'd wait on you by inches on my +knees. I would, honestly." + +Rhoda rubbed a thin cheek against the warm hand that still held hers, +and the mute thanks said more than words. + +The veranda of the Newman ranch-house was deep and shaded by green +vines. From the hammock where she lay, a delicate figure amid the +vivid cushions, Rhoda looked upon a landscape that combined all the +perfection of verdure of a northern park with a sense of illimitable +breathing space that should have been fairly intoxicating to her. Two +huge cottonwoods stood beside the porch. Beyond the lawn lay the peach +orchard which vied with the bordering alfalfa fields in fragrance and +color. The yellow-brown of tree-trunks and the white of grazing sheep +against vegetation of richest green were astonishing colors for Rhoda +to find in the desert to which she had been exiled, and in the few days +since her arrival she had not ceased to wonder at them. + +DeWitt crossed the orchard, quickening his pace when he saw Rhoda. He +was a tall fellow, blond and well built, though not so tall and lithe +as Cartwell. His dark blue eyes were disconcertingly clear and direct. + +"Well, Rhoda dear!" he exclaimed as he hurried up the steps. "If you +didn't scare this family! How are you feeling now?" + +"I'm all right," Rhoda answered languidly. "It was good of you all to +bother so about me. What have you been doing all day?" + +"Over at the ditch with Jack and Cartwell. Say, Rhoda, the young +fellow who rescued you is an Indian!" + +DeWitt dropped into a big chair by the hammock. He watched the girl +hopefully. It was such a long, long time since she had been interested +in anything! But there was no responsive light in the deep gray eyes. + +"Katherine told me," she replied. Then, after a pause, as if she felt +it her duty to make conversation, "Did you like him?" + +DeWitt spoke slowly, as if he had been considering the matter. + +"I've a lot of race prejudice in me, Rhoda. I don't like niggers or +Chinamen or Indians when they get over to the white man's side of the +fence. They are well enough on their own side. However, this Cartwell +chap seems all right. And he rescued you from a beastly serious +situation!" + +"I don't know that I'm as grateful for that as I ought to be," murmured +Rhoda, half to herself. "It would have been an easy solution." + +Her words stung DeWitt. He started forward and seized the small thin +hands in both his own. + +"Rhoda, don't!" he pleaded huskily. "Don't give up! Don't lose hope! +If I could only give you some of my strength! Don't talk so! It just +about breaks my heart to hear you." + +For a time, Rhoda did not answer. She lay wearily watching the eager, +pleading face so close to her own. Even in her illness, Rhoda was very +lovely. The burnished yellow hair softened the thinness of the face +that was like delicately chiseled marble. The finely cut nose, the +exquisite drooping mouth, the little square chin with its cleft, and +the great gray eyes lost none of their beauty through her weakness. + +"John," she said at last, "why won't you look the truth in the face? I +never shall get well. I shall die here instead of in New York, that's +all. Why did you follow me down here? It only tortures you. And, +truly it's not so bad for me. You all have lost your realness to me, +somehow. I shan't mind going, much." + +DeWitt's strong face worked but his voice was steady. + +"I never shall leave you," he said simply. "You are the one woman in +the world for me. I'd marry you tomorrow if you'd let me." + +Rhoda shook her head. + +"You ought to go away, John, and forget me. You ought to go marry some +fine girl and have a home and a family. I'm just a sick wreck." + +"Rhoda," and DeWitt's earnest voice was convincing, "Rhoda, I'd pass up +the healthiest, finest girl on earth for you, just sick you. Why, +can't you see that your helplessness and dependence only deepen your +hold on me? Who wants a thing as fragile and as lovely as you are to +make a home! You pay your way in life just by living! Beauty and +sweetness like yours is enough for a woman to give. I don't want you +to do a thing in the world. Just give yourself to me and let me take +care of you. Rhoda, dear, dear heart!" + +"I can't marry unless I'm well," insisted Rhoda, "and I never shall be +well again. I know that you all thought it was for the best, bringing +me down to the desert, but just as soon as I can manage it without +hurting Katherine's and Jack's feelings too much, I'm going back to New +York. If you only knew how the big emptiness of this desert country +adds to my depression!" + +"If you go back to New York," persisted DeWitt, "you are going back as +my wife. I'm sick of seeing you dependent on hired care. Why, Rhoda +dear, is it nothing to you that, when you haven't a near relative in +the world, I would gladly die for you?" + +"Oh!" cried the girl, tears of weakness and pity in her eyes, "you know +that it means everything to me! But I can't marry any one. All I want +is just to crawl away and die in peace. I wish that that Indian hadn't +come upon me so promptly. I'd just have gone to sleep and never +wakened." + +"Don't! Don't!" cried DeWitt. "I shall pick you up and hold you +against all the world, if you say that!" + +"Hush!" whispered Rhoda, but her smile was very tender. "Some one is +coming through the orchard." + +DeWitt reluctantly released the slender hands and leaned back in his +chair. The sun had crossed the peach orchard slowly, breathlessly. It +cast long, slanting shadows along the beautiful alfalfa fields and +turned the willows by the irrigating ditch to a rosy gray. As the sun +sank, song-birds piped and lizards scuttled along the porch rail. The +loveliest part of the New Mexican day had come. + +The two young Northerners watched the man who was swinging through the +orchard. It was Cartwell. Despite his breadth of shoulder, the young +Indian looked slender, though it was evident that only panther strength +could produce such panther grace. He crossed the lawn and stood at the +foot of the steps; one hand crushed his soft hat against his hip, and +the sun turned his close-cropped black hair to blue bronze. For an +instant none of the three spoke. It was as if each felt the import of +this meeting which was to be continued through such strange +vicissitudes. Cartwell, however, was not looking at DeWitt but at +Rhoda, and she returned his gaze, surprised at the beauty of his face, +with its large, long-lashed, Mohave eyes that were set well apart and +set deeply as are the eyes of those whose ancestors have lived much in +the open glare of the sun; with the straight, thin-nostriled nose; with +the stern, cleanly modeled mouth and the square chin, below. And +looking into the young Indian's deep black eyes, Rhoda felt within +herself a vague stirring that for a second wiped the languor from her +eyes. + +Cartwell spoke first, easily, in the quiet, well-modulated voice of the +Indian. + +"Hello! All safe, I see! Mr. Newman will be here shortly." He seated +himself on the upper step with his back against a pillar and fanned +himself with his hat. "Jack's working too hard. I want him to go to +the coast for a while and let me run the ditch. But he won't. He's as +pig-headed as a Mohave." + +"Are the Mohaves so pig-headed then?" asked DeWitt, smiling. + +Cartwell returned the smile with a flash of white teeth. + +"You bet they are! My mother was part Mohave and she used to say that +only the Pueblo in her kept her from being as stiff-necked as yucca. +You're all over the dizziness, Miss Tuttle?" + +"Yes," said Rhoda. "You were very good to me." + +Cartwell shook his head. + +"I'm afraid I can't take special credit for that. Will you two ride to +the ditch with me tomorrow? I think Miss Tuttle will be interested in +Jack's irrigation dream, don't you, Mr. DeWitt?" + +DeWitt answered a little stiffly. + +"It's out of the question for Miss Tuttle to attempt such a trip, thank +you." + +But to her own as well as DeWitt's astonishment Rhoda spoke +protestingly. + +"You must let me refuse my own invitations, John. Perhaps the ditch +would interest me." + +DeWitt replied hastily, "Good gracious, Rhoda! If anything will +interest you, don't let me interfere." + +There was protest in his voice against Rhoda's being interested in an +Indian's suggestion. Both Rhoda and Cartwell felt this and there was +an awkward pause. This was broken by a faint halloo from the corral +and DeWitt rose abruptly. + +"I'll go down and meet Jack," he said. + +"We'll do a lot of stunts if you're willing," Cartwell said serenely, +his eyes following DeWitt's broad back inscrutably. "The desert is +like a story-book if one learns to read it. If you would be interested +to learn, I would be keen to teach you." + +Rhoda's gray eyes lifted to the young man's somberly. + +"I'm too dull these days to learn anything," she said. "But I--I +didn't used to be! Truly I didn't! I used to be so alive, so strong! +I believed in everything, myself most of all! Truly I did!" She +paused, wondering at her lack of reticence. + +Cartwell, however, was looking at her with something in his gaze so +quietly understanding that Rhoda smiled. It was a slow smile that +lifted and deepened the corners of Rhoda's lips, that darkened her gray +eyes to black, an unforgetable smile to the loveliness of which Rhoda's +friends never could accustom themselves. At the sight of it, Cartwell +drew a deep breath, then leaned toward her and spoke with curious +earnestness. + +"You make me feel the same way that starlight on the desert makes me +feel." + +Rhoda replied in astonishment, "Why, you mustn't speak that way to me! +It's not--not--" + +"Not conventional?" suggested Cartwell. "What difference does that +make, between you and me?" + +Again came the strange stirring in Rhoda in response to Cartwell's +gaze. He was looking at her with something of tragedy in the dark +young eyes, something of sternness and determination in the clean-cut +lips. Rhoda wondered, afterward, what would have been said if +Katherine had not chosen this moment to come out on the porch. + +"Rhoda," she asked, "do you feel like dressing for dinner? Hello, +Kut-le, it's time you moved toward soap and water, seems to me!" + +"Yessum!" replied Cartwell meekly. He rose and helped Rhoda from the +hammock, then held the door open for her. DeWitt and Newman emerged +from the orchard as he crossed to Katherine's chair. + +"Is she very sick, Mrs. Jack?" he asked. + +Katherine nodded soberly. + +"Desperately sick. Her father and mother were killed in a railroad +wreck a year ago. Rhoda wasn't seriously hurt but she has never gotten +over the shock. She has been failing ever since. The doctor feared +consumption and sent her down here. But she's just dying by inches. +Oh, it's too awful! I can't believe it! I can't realize it!" + +Cartwell stood in silence for a moment, his lips compressed, his eyes +inscrutable. + +Then, "I've met her at last," he said. "It makes me believe in Fate." + +Katherine's pretty lips parted in amazement. + +"Goodness! Are you often taken this way!" she gasped. + +"Never before!" replied Cartwell serenely. "Jack said she'd broken her +engagement to DeWitt because of her illness, so it's a fair war!" + +"Kut-le!" exclaimed Katherine. "Don't talk like a yellow-backed novel! +It's not a life or death affair." + +"You can't tell as to that," answered Cartwell with a curious little +smile. "You mustn't forget that I'm an Indian." + +And he turned to greet the two men who were mounting the steps. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE CAUCASIAN WAY + +When Rhoda entered the dining-room some of her pallor seemed to have left +her. She was dressed in a gown of an elusive pink that gave a rose flush +to the marble fineness of her face. + +Katherine was chatting with a wiry, middle-aged man whom she introduced +to Rhoda as Mr. Porter, an Arizona mining man. Porter stood as if +stunned for a moment by Rhoda's delicate loveliness. Then, as was the +custom of every man who met Rhoda, he looked vaguely about for something +to do for her. Jack Newman forestalled him by taking Rhoda's hand and +leading her to the table. Jack's curly blond hair looked almost white in +contrast with his tanned face. He was not as tall as either Cartwell or +DeWitt but he was strong and clean-cut and had a boyish look despite the +heavy responsibilities of his five-thousand-acre ranch. + +"There," he said, placing Rhoda beside Porter; "just attach Porter's +scalp to your belt with the rest of your collection. It'll be a new +experience to him. Don't be afraid, Porter." + +Billy Porter was not in the least embarrassed. + +"I've come too near to losing my scalp to the Apaches to be scared by +Miss Tuttle. Anyhow I gave her my scalp without a yelp the minute I laid +eyes on her." + +"Here! That's not fair!" cried John DeWitt. "The rest of us had to work +to get her to take ours!" + +"Our what?" asked Cartwell, entering the room at the last word. He was +looking very cool and well groomed in white flannels. + +Billy Porter stared at the newcomer and dropped his soup-spoon with a +splash. "What in thunder!" Rhoda heard him mutter. + +Jack Newman spoke hastily. + +"This is Mr. Cartwell, our irrigation engineer, Mr. Porter." + +Porter responded to the young Indian's courteous bow with a surly nod, +and proceeded with his soup. + +"I'd as soon eat with a nigger as an Injun," he said to Rhoda under cover +of some laughing remark of Katherine's to Cartwell. + +"He seems to be nice," said Rhoda vaguely. "Maybe, though, Katherine +_is_ a little liberal, making him one of the family." + +"Is there any hunting at all in this open desert country?" asked DeWitt. +"I certainly hate to go back to New York with nothing but sunburn to show +for my trip!" + +"Coyotes, wildcats, rabbits and partridges," volunteered Cartwell. "I +know where there is a nest of wildcats up on the first mesa. And I know +an Indian who will tan the pelts for you, like velvet. A jack-rabbit +pelt well tanned is an exquisite thing too, by the way. I will go on a +hunt with you whenever the ditch can be left." + +"And while they are chasing round after jacks, Miss Tuttle," cut in Billy +Porter neatly, "I will take you anywhere you want to go. I'll show you +things these kids never dreamed of! I knew this country in the days of +Apache raids and the pony express." + +"That will be fine!" replied Rhoda. "But I'd rather hear the stories +than take any trips. Did you spend your boyhood in New Mexico? Did you +see real Indian fights? Did you--?" She paused with an involuntary +glance at Cartwell. + +Porter, too, looked at the dark young face across the table and something +in its inscrutable calm seemed to madden him. + +"My boyhood here? Yes, and a happy boyhood it was! I came home from the +range one day and found my little fifteen-year-old sister and a little +neighbor friend of hers hung up by the back of their necks on butcher +hooks. They had been tortured to death by Apaches. I don't like +Indians!" + +There was an awkward pause at the dinner table. Li Chung removed the +soup-plates noiselessly. Cartwell's brown fingers tapped the tablecloth. +But he was not looking at Porter's scowling face. He was watching +Rhoda's gray eyes which were fastened on him with a look half of pity, +half of aversion. When he spoke it was as if he cared little for the +opinions of the others but would set himself right with her alone. + +"My father," he said, "came home from the hunt, one day, to find his +mother and three sisters lying in their own blood. The whites had gotten +them. They all had been scalped and were dead except the baby, three +years old. She--she--my father killed her." + +A gasp of horror went round the table. + +"I think such stories are inexcusable here!" exclaimed Katherine +indignantly. + +"So do I, Mrs. Jack," replied Cartwell. "I won't do it again." + +Porter's face stained a deep mahogany and he bowed stiffly to Katherine. + +"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Newman!" + +"I feel as if I were visiting a group of anarchists," said Rhoda +plaintively, "and had innocently passed round a bomb on which to make +conversation!" + +Jack Newman laughed, the tension relaxed, and in a moment the dinner was +proceeding merrily, though Porter and Cartwell carefully avoided speaking +to each other. Most of the conversation centered around Rhoda. +Katherine always had been devoted to her friend. And though men always +had paid homage to Rhoda, since her illness had enhanced her delicacy, +and had made her so appealingly helpless, they were drawn to her as +surely as bee to flower. Old and young, dignified and happy-go-lucky, +all were moved irresistibly to do something for her, to coddle her, to +undertake impossible missions, self-imposed. + +Porter from his place of vantage beside her kept her plate heaped with +delicacies, calmly removed the breast of chicken from his own plate to +hers, all but fed her with a spoon when she refused to more than nibble +at her meal. + +DeWitt's special night-mare was that drafts were blowing on her. He kept +excusing himself from the table to open and close windows and doors, to +hang over her chair so as to feel for himself if the wind touched her. + +Katherine and Jack kept Li Chung trotting to the kitchen for different +dainties with which to tempt her. Only Cartwell did nothing. He kept up +what seemed to be his usual fire of amiable conversation and watched +Rhoda constantly through inscrutable black eyes. But he made no attempt +to serve her. + +Rhoda was scarcely conscious of the deference showed her, partly because +she had received it so long, partly because that detached frame of mind +of the hopeless invalid made the life about her seem shadowy and unreal. +Nothing really mattered much. She lay back in her chair with the little +wistful smile, the somber light in her eyes that had become habitual to +her. + +After dinner was finished Katherine led the way to the living-room. To +his unspeakable pride, Rhoda took Billy Porter's arm and he guided her +listless footsteps carefully, casting pitying glances on his less favored +friends. Jack wheeled a Morris chair before the fireplace--desert nights +are cool--and John DeWitt hurried for a shawl, while Katherine gave every +one orders that no one heeded in the least. + +Cartwell followed after the others, slowly lighted a cigarette, then +seated himself at the piano. For the rest of the evening he made no +attempt to join in the fragmentary conversation. Instead he sang softly, +as if to himself, touching the keys so gently that their notes seemed +only the echo of his mellow voice. He sang bits of Spanish love-songs, +of Mexican lullabies. But for the most part he kept to Indian +melodies--wistful love-songs and chants that touched the listener with +strange poignancy. + +There was little talk among the group around the fire. The three men +smoked peacefully. Katherine and Jack sat close to each other, on the +davenport, content to be together. DeWitt lounged where he could watch +Rhoda, as did Billy Porter, the latter hanging on every word and movement +of this lovely, fragile being, as if he would carry forever in his heart +the memory of her charm. + +Rhoda herself watched the fire. She was tired, tired to the inmost fiber +of her being. The only real desire left her was that she might crawl off +somewhere and die in peace. But these good friends of hers had set their +faces against the inevitable and it was only decency to humor them. +Once, quite unconscious that the others were watching her, she lifted her +hands and eyed them idly. They were almost transparent and shook a +little. The group about the fire stirred pityingly. John and Katherine +and Jack remembered those shadowy hands when they had been rosy and full +of warmth and tenderness. Billy Porter leaned across and with his hard +brown palms pressed the trembling fingers down into Rhoda's lap. She +looked up in astonishment. + +"Don't hold 'em so!" said Billy hoarsely. "I can't stand to see 'em!" + +"They _are_ pretty bad," said Rhoda, smiling. It was her rare, slow, +unforgetable smile. Porter swallowed audibly. Cartwell at the piano +drifted from a Mohave lament to _La Paloma_. + + "The day that I left my home for the rolling sea, + I said, 'Mother dear, O pray to thy God for me!' + But e'er I set sail I went a fond leave to take + Of Nina, who wept as if her poor heart would break!" + +The mellow, haunting melody caught Rhoda's fancy at once, as Cartwell +knew it would. She turned to the sinewy figure at the piano. DeWitt was +wholesome and strong, but this young Indian seemed vitality itself. + + "Nina, if I should die and o'er ocean's foam + Softly at dusk a fair dove should come, + Open thy window, Nina, for it would be + My faithful soul come back to thee----" + +Something in Cartwell's voice stirred Rhoda as had his eyes. For the +first time in months Rhoda felt poignantly that it would be hard to be +cut down with all her life unlived. The mellow voice ceased and +Cartwell, rising, lighted a fresh cigarette. + +"I am going to get up with the rabbits, tomorrow," he said, "so I'll trot +to bed now." + +DeWitt, impelled by that curious sense of liking for the young Indian +that fought down his aversion, said, "The music was bully, Cartwell!" but +Cartwell only smiled as if at the hint of patronage in the voice and +strolled to his own room. + +Rhoda slept late the following morning. She had not, in her three nights +in the desert country, become accustomed to the silence that is not the +least of the desert's splendors. It seemed to her that the nameless +unknown Mystery toward which her life was drifting was embodied in this +infinite silence. So sleep would not come to her until dawn. Then the +stir of the wind in the trees, the bleat of sheep, the trill of +mocking-birds lulled her to sleep. + +As the brilliancy of the light in her room increased there drifted across +her uneasy dreams the lilting notes of a whistled call. Pure and +liquidly sweet they persisted until there came to Rhoda that faint stir +of hope and longing that she had experienced the day before. She opened +her eyes and finally, as the call continued, she crept languidly from her +bed and peered from behind the window-shade. Cartwell, in his khaki +suit, his handsome head bared to the hot sun, leaned against a peach-tree +while he watched Rhoda's window. + +"I wonder what he wakened me for?" she thought half resentfully. "I +can't go to sleep again, so I may as well dress and have breakfast." + +Hardly had she seated herself at her solitary meal when Cartwell appeared. + +"Dear me!" he exclaimed. "The birds and Mr. DeWitt have been up this +long time." + +"What is John doing?" asked Rhoda carelessly. + +"He's gone up on the first mesa for the wildcats I spoke of last night. +I thought perhaps you might care to take a drive before it got too hot. +You didn't sleep well last night, did you?" + +Rhoda answered whimsically. + +"It's the silence. It thunders at me so! I will get used to it soon. +Perhaps I ought to drive. I suppose I ought to try everything." + +Not at all discouraged, apparently, by this lack of enthusiasm, Cartwell +said: + +"I won't let you overdo. I'll have the top-buggy for you and we'll go +slowly and carefully." + +"No," said Rhoda, suddenly recalling that, after all, Cartwell was an +Indian, "I don't think I will go. Katherine will have all sorts of +objections." + +The Indian smiled sardonically. + +"I already have Mrs. Jack's permission. Billy Porter will be in, in a +moment. If you would rather have a white man than an Indian, as escort, +I'm quite willing to retreat." + +Rhoda flushed delicately. + +"Your frankness is almost--almost impertinent, Mr. Cartwell." + +"I don't mean it that way at all!" protested the Indian. "It's just that +I saw so plainly what was going on in your mind and it piqued me. If it +will be one bit pleasanter for you with Billy, I'll go right out and hunt +him up for you now." + +The young man's naïveté completely disarmed Rhoda. + +"Don't be silly!" she said. "Go get your famous top-buggy and I'll be +ready in a minute." + +In a short time Rhoda and Cartwell, followed by many injunctions from +Katherine, started off toward the irrigating ditch. At a slow pace they +drove through the peach orchard into the desert. As they reached the +open trail, thrush and to-hee fluttered from the cholla. Chipmunk and +cottontail scurried before them. Overhead a hawk dipped in its reeling +flight. Cartwell watched the girl keenly. Her pale face was very lovely +in the brilliant morning light, though the somberness of her wide, gray +eyes was deepened. That same muteness and patience in her trouble which +so touched other men touched Cartwell, but he only said: + +"There never was anything bigger and finer than this open desert, was +there?" + +Rhoda turned from staring at the distant mesas and eyed the young Indian +wonderingly. + +"Why!" she exclaimed, "I hate it! You know that sick fear that gets you +when you try to picture eternity to yourself? That's the way this +barrenness and awful distance affects me. I hate it!" + +"But you won't hate it!" cried Cartwell. "You must let me show you its +bigness. It's as healing as the hand of God." + +Rhoda shuddered. + +"Don't talk about it, please! I'll try to think of something else." + +They drove in silence for some moments. Rhoda, her thin hands clasped in +her lap, resolutely stared at the young Indian's profile. In the unreal +world in which she drifted, she needed some thought of strength, some +hope beyond her own, to which to cling. She was lonely--lonely as some +outcast watching with sick eyes the joy of the world to which he is +denied. As she stared at the stern young profile beside her, into her +heart crept the now familiar thrill. + +Suddenly Cartwell turned and looked at her quizzically. + +"Well, what are your conclusions?" + +Rhoda shook her head. + +"I don't know, except that it's hard to realize that you are an Indian." + +Cartwell's voice was ironical. + +"The only good Indian is a dead Indian, you know. I'm liable to break +loose any time, believe me!" + +Rhoda's eyes were on the far lavender line where the mesa melted into the +mountains. + +"Yes, and then what?" she asked. + +Cartwell's eyes narrowed, but Rhoda did not see. + +"Then I'm liable to follow Indian tradition and take whatever I want, by +whatever means!" + +"My! My!" said Rhoda, "that sounds bludgy! And what are you liable to +want?" + +"Oh, I want the same thing that a great many white men want. I'm going +to have it myself, though!" His handsome face glowed curiously as he +looked at Rhoda. + +But the girl was giving his words small heed. Her eyes still were turned +toward the desert, as though she had forgotten her companion. Sand +whirls crossed the distant levels, ceaselessly. Huge and menacing, they +swirled out from the mesa's edge, crossed the desert triumphantly, then, +at contact with rock or cholla thicket, collapsed and disappeared. +Endless, merciless, hopeless the yellow desert quivered against the +bronze blue sky. For the first time dazed hopelessness gave way in Rhoda +to fear. The young Indian, watching the girl's face, beheld in it what +even DeWitt never had seen there--beheld deadly fear. He was silent for +a moment, then he leaned toward her and put a strong brown hand over her +trembling little fists. His voice was deep and soft. + +"Don't," he said, "don't!" + +Perhaps it was the subtle, not-to-be-fathomed influence of the desert +which fights all sham; perhaps it was that Rhoda merely had reached the +limit of her heroic self-containment and that, had DeWitt or Newman been +with her, she would have given way in the same manner; perhaps it was +that the young Indian's presence had in it a quality that roused new life +in her. Whatever the cause; the listless melancholy suddenly left +Rhoda's gray eyes and they were wild and black with fear. + +"I can't die!" she panted. "I can't leave my life unlived! I can't +crawl on much longer like a sick animal without a soul. I want to live! +To live!" + +"Look at me!" said Cartwell. "Look at me, not at the desert!" Then as +she turned to him, "Listen, Rhoda! You shall not die! I will make you +well! You shall not die!" + +For a long minute the two gazed deep into each other's eyes, and the +sense of quickening blood touched Rhoda's heart. Then they both woke to +the sound of hoof-beats behind them and John DeWitt, with a wildcat +thrown across his saddle, rode up. + +"Hello! I've shouted one lung out! I thought you people were +petrified!" He looked curiously from Rhoda's white face to Cartwell's +inscrutable one. "Do you think you ought to have attempted this trip, +Rhoda?" he asked gently. + +"Oh, we've taken it very slowly," answered the Indian. "And we are going +to turn back now." + +"I don't think I've overdone," said Rhoda. "But perhaps we have had +enough." + +"All right," said Cartwell. "If Mr. DeWitt will change places with me, +I'll ride on to the ditch and he can drive you back." + +DeWitt assented eagerly and, the change made, Cartwell lifted his hat and +was gone. Rhoda and John returned in a silence that lasted until DeWitt +lifted Rhoda from the buggy to the veranda. Then he said: + +"Rhoda, I don't like to have you go off alone with Cartwell. I wish you +wouldn't." + +Rhoda smiled. + +"John, don't be silly! He goes about with Katherine all the time." + +John only shook his head and changed the subject. That afternoon, +however, Billy Porter buttonholed DeWitt in the corral where the New +Yorker was watching the Arizonian saddle his fractious horse. When the +horse was ready at the post, "Look here, DeWitt," said Billy, an +embarrassed look in his honest brown eyes, "I don't want you to think I'm +buttin' in, but some one ought to watch that young Injun. Anybody with +one eye can see he's crazy about Miss Rhoda." + +John was too startled to be resentful. + +"What do you mean?" he exclaimed. "Cartwell is a great friend of the +Newmans'." + +"That's why I came to you. They're plumb locoed about the fellow, like +the rest of the Easterners around here." + +"Do you know anything against him?" insisted DeWitt. + +"Why, man, he's an Injun, and half Apache at that! That's enough to know +against him!" + +"What makes you think he's interested in Miss Tuttle?" asked John. + +Porter flushed through his tan. + +"Well," he said sheepishly, "I seen him come down the hall at dawn this +morning. Us Westerners are early risers, you know, and when he reached +Miss Turtle's door, he pulled a little slipper out of his pocket and +kissed it and put it in front of the sill." + +DeWitt scowled, then he laughed. + +"He's no worse than the rest of us that way! I'll watch, him, though +perhaps it's only your prejudice against Indians and not really a matter +to worry about." + +Porter sighed helplessly. + +"All right! All right! Just remember, DeWitt, I warned you!" + +He mounted, then held in his horse while the worried look gave place to +one so sad, yet so manly, that John never forgot it. + +"I hope you appreciate that girl, DeWitt. She--she's a thoroughbred! My +God! When you think of a sweet thing like that dying and these Injun +squaws living! I hope you'll watch her, DeWitt. If anything happens to +her through you not watching her, I'll come back on you for it! I ain't +got any rights except the rights that any living man has got to take care +of any white thing like her. They get me hard when they're dainty like +that. And she's the daintiest I ever seen!" + +He rode away, shaking his head ominously. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +INDIAN AND CAUCASIAN + +DeWitt debated with himself for some time as to whether or not he ought +to speak to Jack of Porter's warning. Finally he decided that Porter's +suspicions would only anger Jack, who was intensely loyal to his +friends. He determined to keep silence until he had something more +tangible on which to found his complaint than Billy's bitter prejudice +against all Indians. He had implicit faith in Rhoda's love for +himself. If any vague interest in life could come to her through the +young Indian, he felt that he could endure his presence. In the +meantime he would guard Rhoda without cessation. + +In the days that followed, Rhoda grew perceptibly weaker, and her +friends went about with aching hearts under an assumed cheerfulness of +manner that deceived Rhoda least of any one. Rhoda herself did not +complain and this of itself added a hundredfold to the pathos of the +situation. Her unfailing sweetness and patience touched the healthy, +hardy young people who were so devoted to her more than the most +justifiable impatience on her part. + +Time and again Katherine saw DeWitt and Jack leave the girl's side with +tears in their eyes. But Cartwell watched the girl with inscrutable +gaze. + +Rhoda still hated the desert. The very unchanging loveliness of the +days wearied her. Morning succeeded morning and noon followed noon, +with always the same soft breeze stirring the orchard, always the clear +yellow sunlight burning and dazzling her eyes, always the unvarying +monotony of bleating sheep and lowing herds and at evening the hoot of +owls. The brooding tenderness of the sky she did not see. The +throbbing of the great, quiet southern stars stirred her only with a +sense of helpless loneliness that was all but unendurable. And still, +from who knows what source, she found strength to meet the days and her +friends with that unfailing sweetness that was as poignant as the +clinging fingers of a sick child. + +Jack, Katherine, DeWitt, Cartwell, all were unwearying in their effort +to amuse her. And yet for some reason. Cartwell alone was able to +rouse her listless eyes to interest. Even DeWitt found himself eagerly +watching the young Indian, less to guard Rhoda than to discover what in +the Apache so piqued his curiosity. He had to admit, however +reluctantly, that Kut-le, as he and Rhoda now called him with the +others, was a charming companion. + +Neither DeWitt nor Rhoda ever before had known an Indian. Most of +their ideas of the race were founded on childhood reading of Cooper. +Kut-le was quite as cultured, quite as well-mannered and quite as +intelligent as any of their Eastern friends. But in many other +qualities he differed from them. He possessed a frank pride in himself +and his blood that might have belonged to some medieval prince who +would not take the trouble outwardly to underestimate himself. Closely +allied to this was his habit of truthfulness. This was not a blatant +bluntness that irritated the hearer but a habit of valuing persons and +things at their intrinsic worth, a habit of mental honesty as bizarre +to Rhoda and John as was the young Indian's frank pride. + +His attitude toward Rhoda piqued her while it amused her. Since her +childhood, men had treated her with deference, had paid almost abject +tribute to her loveliness and bright charm. Cartwell was delightfully +considerate of her. He was uniformly courteous to her. But it was the +courtesy of _noblesse oblige_, without a trace of deference in it. + +One afternoon Kut-le sat alone on the veranda with Rhoda. + +"Do you know," he said, rumpling his black hair, "that I think DeWitt +has decided that I will bear watching!" + +"Well," answered Rhoda idly, "and won't you?" + +Kut-le chuckled. + +"Would you prefer that I show the lurking savage beneath this false +shell of good manners?" + +Rhoda smiled back at him. + +"Of course you are an Indian, after all. It's rather too bad of you +not to live up to any of our ideals. Your manners are as nice as John +DeWitt's. I'd be quite frantic about you if you would drop them and go +on the war-path." + +Kut-le threw back his head and laughed. + +"Oh, you ignorant young thing! It's lucky for you--and for me--that +you have come West to grow up and complete your education! But DeWitt +needn't worry. I don't need watching yet! First, I'm going to make +you well. I know how and he doesn't. After that is done, he'd better +watch!" + +Rhoda's eyebrows began to go up. Kut-le never had recalled by word or +look her outburst in the desert the morning of their first ride +together, though they had taken several since. Rhoda seldom mentioned +her illness now and her friends respected her feeling. But now Kut-le +smiled at her disapproving brows. + +"I've waited for the others to get busy," he said, "but they act +foolish. Half the trouble with you is mental. You need a boss. Now, +you don't eat enough, in spite of the eggs and beef and fruit that that +dear Mrs. Jack sets before you. See how your hands shake this minute!" + +Rhoda could think of no reply sufficiently crushing for this forward +young Indian. While she was turning several over in her mind, Kut-le +went into the house and returned with a glass of milk. + +"I wish you'd drink this," he said. + +Rhoda's brows still were arched haughtily. + +"No, thank you," she said frigidly; "I don't wish you to undertake the +care of my health." + +Kut-le made no reply but held the glass steadily before her. +Involuntarily, Rhoda looked up. The young Indian was watching her with +eyes so clear, so tender, with that strange look of tragedy belying +their youth, with that something so compelling in their quiet depths, +that once more her tired pulses quickened. Rhoda looked from Kut-le +out to the twisting sand-whirls, then she took the glass of milk and +drank it. She would not have done this for any of the others and both +she and Kut-le knew it. Thereafter, he deliberately set himself to +watching her and it seemed as if he must exhaust his ingenuity devising +means for her comfort. Slowly Rhoda acquired a definite interest in +the young Indian. + +"Are you really civilized, Kut-le?" she asked one afternoon when the +young man had brought a little white desert owl to her hammock for her +inspection. + +Kut-le tossed the damp hair from his forehead and looked at the sweet +wistful face against the crimson pillows. For a moment Rhoda felt as +if his young strength enveloped her like the desert sun. + +"Why?" he asked at last. "You said the other day that I was too much +civilized." + +"I know, but--" Rhoda hesitated for words, "I'm too much civilized +myself to understand, but sometimes there's a look in your eyes that +something, I suppose it's a forgotten instinct, tells me means that you +are wild to let all this go--" she waved a thin hand toward cultivated +fields and corral--"and take to the open desert." + +Kut-le said nothing for a moment, though his face lighted with joy at +her understanding. Then he turned toward the desert and Rhoda saw the +look of joy change to one so full of unutterable longing that her heart +was stirred to sudden pity. However, an instant later, he turned to +her with the old impassive expression. + +"Right beneath my skin," he said, "is the Apache. Tell me, Miss Rhoda, +what's the use of it all?" + +"Use?" asked Rhoda, staring at the blue sky above the peach-trees. "I +am a fit person to ask what is the use of anything! Of course, +civilization is the only thing that lives. I can't get your point of +view at all." + +"Huh!" sniffed Kut-le. "It's too bad Indians don't write books! If my +people had been putting their internal mechanism on paper for a +thousand years, you'd have no more trouble getting my point of view +than I do yours." + +Rhoda's face as she eyed the stern young profile was very sympathetic. +Kut-le, turning to her, surprised upon her face that rare, tender smile +for which all who knew her watched. His face flushed and his fine +hands clasped and unclasped. + +"Tell me about it, Kut-le, if you can." + +"I can't tell you. The desert would show you its own power if you +would give it a chance. No one can describe the call to you. I +suppose if I answered it and went back, you would call it +retrogression?" + +"What would you call it?" asked Rhoda. + +"I don't know. It would depend on my mood. I only know that the ache +is there." His eyes grew somber and beads of sweat appeared on his +forehead. "The ache to be there--free in the desert! To feel the hot +sun in my face as I work the trail! To sleep with the naked stars in +my face! To be-- Oh, I can't make you understand, and I'd rather you +understood than any one in the world! You could understand, if only +you were desert-taught. When you are well and strong--" + +"But why don't you go back?" interrupted Rhoda. + +"Because," replied Kut-le slowly, "the Indian is dying. I hope that by +living as a white, I may live. Up till recently I have worked blindly +and hopelessly, but now I see light." + +"Do you?" asked Rhoda with interest. "What have you found?" + +"It isn't mine yet." Kut-le looked at the girl exultantly and there +was a triumphant note in his voice. "But it shall be mine! I will +make it mine! And it is worth the sacrifice of my race." + +A vague look of surprise crossed Rhoda's face but she spoke calmly: + +"To sacrifice one's race is a serious thing. I can't think of anything +that would make that worth while. Here comes Mr. DeWitt. It must be +dinner time. John, come up and see a little desert owl at close range. +Kut-le has all the desert at his beck and call!" + +Kut-le persuaded Rhoda to change the morning rides, which seemed only +to exhaust her, to the shortest of evening strolls. Nearly always +DeWitt accompanied them. Sometimes they went alone, though John was +never very far distant. + +One moonlit night Kut-le and Rhoda stood alone at the corral bars. The +whole world was radiant silver moonlight on the desert, on the +undulating alfalfa; moonlight filtering through the peach-trees and +shimmering on Rhoda's drooping head as she leaned against the bars in +the weary attitude habitual to her. Kut-le stood before her, erect and +strong in his white flannels. His handsome head was thrown back a +little, as was his custom when speaking earnestly. His arms were +folded across his deep chest and he stood so still that Rhoda could see +his arms rise and fall with his breath. + +"It really is great work!" he was saying eagerly. "It seems to me that +a civil engineer has tremendous opportunities to do really big things. +Some of Kipling's stories of them are bully." + +"Aren't they!" answered Rhoda sympathetically. + +"There is a big thing in my favor too. The whites make no +discrimination against an Indian in the professions. In fact every one +gives him a boost in passing!" + +"Why shouldn't they? You have as good a brain and are as attractive as +any man of my acquaintance!" + +The young man drew a quick breath. + +"Do you really mean that?" + +"Of course! Why shouldn't I? Isn't the moonlight uncanny on the +desert?" + +But Kut-le did not heed her attempt to change the subject. + +"There are unlimited opportunities for me to make good, now that the +government is putting up so many dams. I believe that I can go to the +top with any man, don't you, Miss Rhoda?" + +"I do, indeed!" replied Rhoda sincerely. + +"Well, then, Miss Rhoda, will you marry me?" + +Rhoda raised her head in speechless amazement. + +Kut-le's glowing eyes contracted. + +"You are not surprised!" he exclaimed a little fiercely, "You must have +seen how it has been with me ever since you came. And you have been +so--so bully to me!" + +Rhoda looked helplessly into the young man's face. She was so fragile +that she seemed but an evanescent part of the moonlight. + +"But," she said slowly, "you must know that this is impossible. I +couldn't think of marrying you, Kut-le!" + +There was a moment's silence. An owl called from the desert. The +night wind swept from the fragrant orchard. When he spoke again, +Kut-le's voice was husky. + +"Is it because I am an Indian?" + +"Yes," answered Rhoda, "partly. But I don't love you, anyhow." + +"But," eagerly, "if you did love me, would my being an Indian make any +difference? Isn't my blood pure? Isn't it old?" + +Rhoda stood still. The pain in Kut-le's voice was piercing through to +the shadow world in which she lived. Her voice was troubled. + +"But I don't love you, so what's the use of considering the rest? If I +ever marry any one it will be John DeWitt." + +"But couldn't you," insisted the tragically deep voice, "couldn't you +ever love me?" + +Rhoda answered wearily. One could not, it seemed, even die in peace! + +"I can't think of love or marriage any more. I am a dying woman. Let +me go into the mist, Kut-le, without a pang for our friendship, with +just the pleasant memory of your goodness to me. Surely you cannot +love me as I am!" + +"I love you for the wonderful possibilities I see in you. I love you +in spite of your illness. I will make you well before I marry you. +The Indian in me has strength to make you well. And I will cherish you +as white men cherish their wives." + +Rhoda raised her hand commandingly and in her voice was that boundless +vanity of the white, which is as old as the race. + +"No! No! Don't speak of this again! You are an Indian but one +removed from savagery. I am a white! I couldn't think of marrying +you!" Then her tender heart failed her and her voice trembled. "But +still I am your friend, Kut-le. Truly I am your friend." + +The Indian was silent so long that Rhoda was a little frightened. Then +he spoke slowly. + +"Yes, you are white and I am red. But before all that, you are a woman +of exquisite possibilities and I am a man who by all of nature's laws +would make a fitting mate for you. You can love me, when you are well, +as you could love no other man. And I--dear one, I love you +passionately! I love you tenderly! I love you enough to give up my +race for you. I am an Indian, Rhoda, but first of all I am a man. +Rhoda, will you marry me?" + +A thrill, poignant, heart-stirring, beat through Rhoda's veins. For +one unspeakable moment there swept through her spirit a vision of +strength, of beauty, of gladness, too wild and sweet for words. Then +came the old sense of race distaste and she looked steadily into the +young man's face. + +"I cannot marry you, Kut-le," she said. + +Kut-le said nothing more. He stood staring at the far desert, his fine +face somber and with a look of determination in the contracted eyes and +firm-set lips that made Rhoda shiver, even while her heart throbbed +with pity. Tall, slender, inscrutable, as alien to her understanding +as the call of the desert wind or the moon-drenched desert haze, she +turned away and left him standing there alone. + +She made her slow way to the ranch-house. Kut-le did not follow. +Rhoda went to bed at once. Yet she could not sleep, for through the +silence Kut-le's deep voice beat on her ears. + +"I love you passionately! I love you tenderly! I am an Indian, but +first of all I am a man!" + +The next day and for the three or four days following, Kut-le was +missing. The Newmans were worried. The ditch needed its engineer and +never before had Kut-le been known to neglect his work. Once a year he +went on a long hunt with chosen friends of his tribe, but never until +his work was finished. + +Rhoda confided in no one regarding her last interview with the Indian. +She missed Kut-le, but DeWitt was frankly relieved. For the first time +since Porter's warning he relaxed his vigilance. On the fifth evening +after Kut-le's disappearance, Jack and DeWitt rode over to a +neighboring ranch. Katherine was lazy with a headache. So Rhoda took +her evening stroll alone. For once, she left the orchard and wandered +out into the open desert, moved by an uncanny desire to let the full +horror of the desert mystery sweep over her. + +How long she sat on a rock, gazing into infinity, she did not know. It +seemed to her that her whole shivering, protesting body was being +absorbed into the strange radiance of the afterglow. At last she rose. +As she did so, a tall figure loomed silently before her. Rhoda was too +startled to scream. The figure was that of an Indian, naked save for +high moccasins and a magnificently decorated loin-cloth. The man +looked down at her with the smile of good fellowship that she knew so +well. It was Kut-le, standing like a young bronze god against the +faint pink of the afterglow. + +"Hello!" he said nonchalantly. "I've been watching for you." + +"What do you want!" gasped Rhoda. "What do you mean by coming before +me in--in--" + +"You mean when I'm dressed as a chief on the warpath? Well, you said +you'd be keen about me this way; so here I am. I tried all the white +methods I knew to win you and failed. Now the only thing left is the +Indian method." + +Rhoda moved uneasily. + +Kut-le went on: + +"As a white man I can no longer pester you. As an Indian I can steal +you and marry you." + +Rhoda struggled to make him and his words seem real to her. + +"You aren't going to be so absurd as to try to steal me, I hope!" she +tried to laugh. + +"That's just what I'm going to do!" answered Kut-le. "If I steal as a +white would steal, I would be caught at once. If I use Apache methods, +no white on earth can catch me." + +Rhoda gasped as the Indian's evident sincerity sank in on her. + +"But," she pleaded, fighting for time, "you can't want to marry me by +force! Don't you know that I shall grow to loathe you?" + +"No! No!" answered the Indian earnestly. "Not after I've shown you +life as I have seen it." + +"Nonsense!" cried Rhoda. "Don't you realize that the whole county will +be after you by morning?" + +Kut-le laughed, deliberately walked up to the girl and lifted her in +his arms as he had on the morning of their meeting. Rhoda gave one +scream and struggled frantically. He slid a hand over her lips and +tightened his hold. For a moment Rhoda lay motionless in abject fear, +then, with a muffled cry of utter helplessness, a cry that would have +driven a white man mad with pity, she slipped into unconsciousness. +Kut-le walked on for a short distance to a horse. He put Rhoda in the +saddle and fastened her there with a blanket. He slipped off the +twisted bandana that bound his short black hair, fillet wise, and tied +it carefully over Rhoda's mouth. Then with one hand steadying the +quiet shoulders, he started the horse on through the dusk. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE INDIAN WAY + +It was some time before the call of a coyote close beside her +penetrated Rhoda's senses. At its third or fourth repetition, she +sighed and opened her eyes. Night had come, the luminous lavender +night of the desert. Her first discovery was that she was seated on a +horse, held firmly by a strong arm across her shoulders. Next she +found that her uneasy breathing was due to the cloth tied round her +mouth. With this came realization of her predicament and she tossed +her arms in a wild attempt to free herself. + +The arm about her tightened, the horse stopped, and the voice went on +repeating the coyote call, clearly, mournfully. Rhoda ceased her +struggling for a moment and looked at the face so close to her own. In +the starlight only the eyes and the dim outline of the features were +visible, and the eyes were as dark and menacing to her as the desert +night that shut her in. + +Mad with fear, Rhoda strained at the rigid arm. Kut-le dropped the +reins and held her struggling hands, ceased his calling and waited. +Off to the left came an answering call and Kut-le started the pony +rapidly toward the sound. In a few moments Rhoda saw a pair of +horsemen. Utterly exhausted, she sat in terror awaiting her fate. +Kut-le gave a low-voiced order. One of the riders immediately rode +forward, leading another horse. Kut-le slipped another blanket from +this and finished binding Rhoda to her saddle so securely that she +scarcely could move a finger. Then he mounted his horse, and he and +one of the Indians started off, leading Rhoda's horse between them and +leaving the third Indian standing silently behind them. + +Rhoda was astride of the pony, half sitting, half lying along his neck. +The Indians put the horses to a trot and immediately the discomfort of +her position was made agony by the rough motion. But the pain cleared +her mind. + +Her first thought was that she never would recover from the disgrace of +this episode. Following this thought came fury at the man who was so +outraging her. It only he would free her hands for a moment she would +choke him! Her anger would give her strength for that! Then she +fought against her fastenings. They held her all but motionless and +the sense of her helplessness brought back the fear panic. Utterly +helpless, she thought! Flying through darkness to an end worse than +death! In the power of a naked savage! Her fear almost robbed her of +her reason. + +After what seemed to her endless hours, the horses were stopped +suddenly. She felt her fastenings removed. Then Kut-le lifted her to +the ground where she tumbled, helpless, at his feet. He stooped and +took the gag from her mouth. Immediately with what fragment of +strength remained to her, she screamed again and again. The two +Indians stood stolidly watching her for a time, then Kut-le knelt in +the sand beside her huddled form and laid his hand on her arm. + +"There, Rhoda," he said, "no one can hear you. You will only make +yourself sick." + +Rhoda struck his hand feebly. + +"Don't touch me!" she cried hoarsely. "Don't touch me, you beast! I +loathe you! I am afraid of you! Don't you dare to touch me!" + +At this Kut-le imprisoned both her cold hands in one of his warm palms +and held them despite her struggles, while with the other hand he +smoothed her tumbled hair from her eyes. + +"Poor frightened little girl," he said, in his rich voice. "I wish I +might have done otherwise. But there was no other way. I don't know +that I believe much in your God but I guess you do. So I tell you, +Rhoda, that by your faith in Him, you are absolutely safe in my hands!" + +Rhoda caught her breath in a childlike sob while she sstill struggled +to recover her hands. + +"I loathe you!" she panted. "I loathe you! I loathe you!" + +But Kut-le would not free the cold little hands. + +"But do you fear me, too? Answer me! Do you fear me?" + +The moon had risen and Rhoda looked into the face that bent above hers. +This was a naked savage with hawk-like face. Yet the eyes were the +ones that she had come to know so well, half tragic, somber, but clear +and, toward her, tender, very, very tender. With a shuddering sigh, +Rhoda looked away. But against her own volition she found herself +saying: + +"I'm not afraid now! But I loathe you, you Apache Indian!" + +Something very like a smile touched the grim mouth of the Apache. + +"I don't hate you, you Caucasian!" he answered quietly. + +He chafed the cold hands for a moment, in silence. Then he lifted her +to her saddle. But Rhoda was beyond struggle, beyond even clinging to +the saddle. Kut-le caught her as she reeled. + +"Don't tie me!" she panted. "Don't tie me! I won't fight! I won't +even scream, if you won't tie me!" + +"But you can't sit your saddle alone," replied Kut-le. "I'll have to +tie you." + +Once more he lifted her to the horse. Once more with the help of his +silent companion he fastened her with blankets. Once more the journey +was begun. For a little while, distraught and uncertain what course to +pursue, Rhoda endured the misery of position and motion in silence. +Then the pain was too much and she cried out in protest. Kut-le +brought the horses to a walk. + +"You certainly have about as much spunk as a chicken with the pip!" he +said contemptuously. "I should think your loathing would brace you up +a little!" + +Stung by the insult to a sudden access of strength, as the Indian had +intended her to be, Rhoda answered, "You beast!" but as the horses +swung into the trot she made no protest for a long hour. Then once +more her strength failed her and she fell to crying with deep-drawn +sobs that shook her entire body. After a few moments of this, Kut-le +drew close to her. + +"Don't!" he said huskily. "Don't!" And again he laid his hand on her +shoulder. + +Rhoda shuddered but could not cease her sobs. Kut-le seemed to +hesitate for a few moments. Then he reached over, undid Rhoda's +fastenings and lifted her limp body to the saddle before him, holding +her against his broad chest as if he were coddling a child. Then he +started the horses on. Too exhausted to struggle, Rhoda lay sobbing +while the young Indian sat with his tragic eyes fastened steadily on +the mysterious distances of the trail. Finally Rhoda sank into a +stupor and, seeing this, Kut-le doubled the speed of the horses. + +It was daylight when Rhoda opened her eyes. For a time she lay at ease +listening to the trill of birds and the trickle of water. Then, with a +start, she raised her head. She was lying on a heap of blankets on a +stone ledge. Above her was the boundless sapphire of the sky. Close +beside her a little spring bubbled from the blank wall of the mountain. +Rhoda lay in helpless silence, looking about her, while the appalling +nature of her predicament sank into her consciousness. + +Against the wall squatted two Indian women. They were dressed in rough +short skirts, tight-fitting calico waists and high leather moccasins. +Their black hair was parted in the middle and hung free. Their swarthy +features were well cut but both of the women were dirty and ill kept. +The younger, heavier squaw had a kindly face, with good eyes, but her +hair was matted with clay and her fingers showed traces of recent +tortilla making. The older woman was lean and wiry, with a strange +gleam of maliciousness and ferocity in her eyes. Her forehead was +elaborately tattooed with symbols and her toothless old jaws were +covered with blue tribal lines. + +Kut-le and his friend of the night lounged on a heap of rock at the +edge of the ledge. The strange Indian was well past middle age, tall +and dignified. He was darker than Kut-le. His face was thin and +aquiline. His long hair hung in elf locks over his shoulders. His +toilet was elaborate compared with that of Kut-le, for he wore a pair +of overalls and a dilapidated flannel shirt, unbelted and fluttering +its ends in the morning breeze. As if conscious of her gaze, Kut-le +turned and looked at Rhoda. His magnificent height and proportions +dwarfed the tall Indian beside him. + +"Good-morning, Rhoda!" he said gravely. + +The girl looked at the beautiful naked body and reddened. + +"You beast!" she said clearly. + +Kut-le looked at her with slightly contracted eyes. Then he spoke to +the fat squaw. She rose hastily and lifted a pot from the little fire +beside the spring. She dipped a steaming cup of broth from this and +brought it to Rhoda's side. The girl struck it away. Kut-le walked +slowly over, picked up the empty cup at which the squaw stood staring +stupidly and filled it once more at the kettle. Then he held it out to +Rhoda. His nearness roused the girl to frenzy. With difficulty she +brought her stiffened body to a sitting position. Her beautiful gray +eyes were black with her sense of outrage. + +"Take it away, beast!" she panted. + +Kut-le held her gaze. + +"Drink it, Rhoda!" he said quietly. + +The girl returned his look for a moment then, hating herself for her +weakness, she took the cup and drained it. Kut-le tossed the cup to +the squaw, pushed Rhoda back to her blankets and covered her very +gently. Then he went back to his boulder. The girl lay staring up at +the sky. Utterly merciless it gleamed above her. But before she could +more than groan she was asleep. + +She slept as she had not slept for months. The slanting rays of the +westering sun wakened her. She sat up stiffly. The squaws were +unpacking a burlap bag. They were greasy and dirty but they were women +and their nearness gave Rhoda a vague sense of protection. They in +turn gazed at the tangled glory of her hair, at the hopeless beauty of +her eyes, at the pathos of the drooping mouth, with unfeigned curiosity. + +Kut-le still was watching the desert. The madness of the night before +had lifted a little, leaving Rhoda with some of her old poise. After +several attempts she rose and made her staggering way to Kut-le's side. + +"Kut-le," she said, "perhaps you will tell me what you mean by this +outrage?" + +The young Indian, turned to her. White and exhausted, heavy hair in +confusion, Rhoda still was lovely. + +"You seem to have more interest in life," he said, "than you have had +since I have known you. I thought the experiment would have that +effect!" + +"You brute!" cried Rhoda. "Can't you see how silly you are? You will +be caught and lynched before the day is passed." + +Kut-le smiled. + +"Pshaw! Three Apaches can outwit a hundred white men on the trail!" + +Rhoda caught her breath. + +"Oh, Kut-le, how could you do this thing! How could you! I am +disgraced forever! Let me go, Kut-le! Let me go! I'll not even ask +you for a horse. Just let me go by myself!" + +"You are better off with me. You will acknowledge that, yourself, +before I am through with you." + +"Better off!" Rhoda's appalled eyes cut the Indian deeper than words. +"Better off! Why, Kut-le, I am a dying woman! You will just have to +leave me dead beside the trail somewhere. Look at me! Look at my +hands! See how emaciated I am! See how I tremble! I am a sick wreck, +Kut-le. You cannot want me! Let me go! Try, try to remember all that +you learned of pity from the whites! O Kut-le, let me go!" + +"I haven't forgotten what I learned from the whites," replied the young +man. He looked off at the desert with a quiet smile. "Now I want the +whites to learn from me. + +"But can't you see what a futile game you are playing? John DeWitt and +Jack must be on your trail now!" + +There was a cruel gleam in the Apache's eyes. + +"Don't be too sure! They are going to spend a few days looking for the +foolish Eastern girl who took a stroll and lost her way in the desert. +How can they dream that you are stolen?" + +Rhoda wrung her hands. + +"What shall I do! What shall I do! What an awful, awful thing to come +to me! As if life had not been hard enough! This catastrophe! This +disgrace!" + +Kut-le eyed her speculatively. + +"It's all race prejudice, you know. I have the education of the white +with the intelligence and physical perfection of the Indian; DeWitt is +nowhere near my equal." + +Rhoda's eyes blazed. + +"Don't speak of DeWitt! You're not fit to!" + +"Yet," very quietly, "you said the other night that I had as good a +brain and was as attractive as any man of your acquaintance!" + +"I was a fool!" exclaimed Rhoda. + +Kut-le rose and took a stride or two up and down the ledge. Then he +folded his arms across his chest and stopped before Rhoda, who leaned +weakly against the boulder. + +"I am going to tell you what my ideas are," he said. "You are +intelligent and will understand me no matter how bitter my words may +make you at first. Now look here. Lots of white men are in love with +you. Even Billy Porter went off his head. But I guess DeWitt is a +pretty fair sample of the type of men you drew, well educated, strong, +well-bred and Eastern to the backbone. And they love you as you are, +delicate, helpless, appealing, thoroughbred, but utterly useless! + +"Except that they hate to see you suffer, they wouldn't want you to +change. Now I love you for the possibilities that I see in you. I +wouldn't think of marrying you as you are. It would be an insult to my +good blood. Your beauty is marred by your illness. You have +absolutely no sense of responsibility toward life. You think that life +owes everything to you, that you pay your way with your beauty. If you +didn't die, but married DeWitt, you would go on through life petted and +babied, bridge-playing and going out to lectures, childless, +incompetent, self-satisfied--and an utter failure! + +"Now I think that humans owe everything to life and that women owe the +most of all because they make the race. The more nature has done for +them, the more they owe. I believe that you are a thousand times worth +saving. I am going to keep you out here in the desert until you wake +to your responsibility to yourself and to life. I am going to strip +your veneering of culture from you and make you see yourself as you are +and life as it is--life, big and clean and glorious, with its one big +tenet: keep body and soul right and reproduce your kind. I am going to +make you see bigger things in this big country than you ever dreamed +of." + +He stopped and Rhoda sat appalled, the Indian watching her. To relieve +herself from his eyes Rhoda turned toward the desert. The sun had all +but touched the far horizon. Crimson and gold, purple and black, +desert and sky merged in one unspeakable glory. But Rhoda saw only +emptiness, only life's cruelty and futility and loneliness. And once +more she wrung her feeble hands. + +Kut-le spoke to Molly, the fat squaw. She again brought Rhoda a cup of +broth. This time Rhoda drank it mechanically, then sat in abject +wretchedness awaiting the next move of her tormentor. She had not long +to wait. Kut-le took a bundle from his saddle and began to unfasten it +before Rhoda. + +"You must get into some suitable clothes," he said. "Put these on." + +Rhoda stared at the clothing Kut-le was shaking out. Then she gave him +a look of disgust. There was a pair of little buckskin breeches, +exquisitely tanned, a little blue flannel shirt, a pair of high-laced +hunting boots and a sombrero. She made no motion toward taking the +clothes. + +"Can't you see," Kut-le went on, "that, at the least, you will be in my +power for a day or two, that you must ride and that the clothes you +have on are simply silly? Why not be as comfortable as possible, under +the circumstances?" + +The girl, with the conventions of ages speaking in her disgusted face, +the savage with his perfect physique bespeaking ages of undistorted +nature, eyed each other narrowly. + +"I shall keep on my own clothes," said Rhoda distinctly. "Believe me, +you alone give the party the primitive air you admire!" + +Kut-le's jaw hardened. + +"Rhoda Tuttle, unless you put these clothes on at once I shall call the +squaws and have them put on you by force." + +Into Rhoda's face came a look of despair. Slowly she put out a shaking +hand and took the clothes. + +"I can't argue against a brute," she said. "The men I have known have +been gentlemen. Tell one of your filthy squaws to come and help me." + +"Molly! _Pronto_!" Like a brown lizard the fat squaw scuttled to +Rhoda's side. + +In a little dressing-room formed by fallen rock, Rhoda put on the boy's +clothing. Molly helped the girl very gently. When she was done she +smoothed the blue-shirted shoulder complacently. + +"Heap nice!" she said. "Make 'em sick squaw heap warm. You no 'fraid! +Kut-le say cut off nose, kill 'em with cactus torture, if Injuns not +good to white squaw." + +The touch was the touch of a woman and Molly, though a squaw, had a +woman's understanding. Rhoda gave a little sob. + +"Kut-le, he good!" Molly went on. "He a big chief's son. He strong, +rich. You no be afraid. You look heap pretty." + +Involuntarily Rhoda glanced at herself. The new clothes were very +comfortable. With the loveliness and breeding that neither clothing +nor circumstance could mar, Rhoda was a fascinating figure. She was +tall for a woman, but now she looked a mere lad. The buckskin clung +like velvet. The high-laced boots came to her knees. The sombrero +concealed all of the golden hair save for short curling locks in front. +She would have charmed a painter, Kut-le thought, as she stepped from +her dressing-room; but he kept his voice coolly impersonal. + +"All right, you're in shape to travel, now. Where are your other +clothes? Molly, bring them all here!" + +Rhoda, followed the squaw and together they folded the cast-off +clothing. Rhoda saw that her scarf had blown near the cañon edge. A +quick thought came to her. Molly was fully occupied with muttering +adoration of the dainty underwear. Rhoda tied a pebble into the scarf +and dropped it far out into the depths below. Then she returned to +Molly. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE PURSUIT + +As twilight deepened, Katherine lay in the hammock thankful for the +soothing effect of the darkness on her aching eyes. She felt a little +troubled about Kut-le. She was very fond of the young Indian. She +understood him as did no one else, perhaps, and had the utmost faith in +his honor and loyalty. She suspected that Rhoda had had much to do +with the young Indian's sudden departure and she felt irritated with +the girl, though at the same time she acknowledged that Rhoda had done +only what she, Katherine, had advised--had treated Kut-le as if he had +been a white man! + +She watched the trail for Rhoda's return but darkness came and there +was no sign of the frail figure. A little disturbed, she walked to the +corral bars and looked down to the lights of the cowboys' quarters. If +only John DeWitt and Jack would return! But she did not expect them +before midnight. She returned to the house and telephoned to the ranch +foreman. + +"Don't you worry, ma'am," he answered cheerily. "No harm could come to +her! She just walked till it got dark and is just starting for home +now, I bet! She can't have got out of sight of the ranch lights." + +"But she may have! You can't tell what she's done, she's such a +tenderfoot," insisted Katherine nervously. "She may have been hurt!" + +It was well that Katherine could not see the foreman's face during the +conversation. It had a decided scowl of apprehension, but he managed a +cheerful laugh. + +"Well, you _have_ got nervous, Mrs. Newman! I'll just send three or +four of the boys out to meet her. Eh?" + +"Oh, yes, do!" cried Katherine. "I shall feel easier. Good-by!" + +Dick Freeman dropped the receiver and hurried into the neighboring +bunk-house. + +"Boys," he said quietly, "Mrs. Newman just 'phoned me that Miss Tuttle +went to walk at sunset, to be gone half an hour. She ain't got back +yet. She is alone. Will some of you come with me?" + +Every hand of cards was dropped before Dick was half through his +statement. In less than twenty minutes twenty cowboys were circling +slowly out into the desert. For two hours Katherine paced from the +living-room to the veranda, from the veranda to the corral. She +changed her light evening gown to her khaki riding habit. Her +nervousness grew to panic. She sent Li Chung to bed, then she paced +the lawn, listening, listening. + +At last she heard the thud of hoofs and Dick Freeman dismounted in the +light that streamed from the open door. + +"We haven't found her, Mrs. Newman. Has Mr. Newman got back? I think +we must get up an organized search." + +Katherine could feel her heart thump heavily. + +"No, he hasn't. Have you found her trail?" + +"No; it's awful hard to trail in the dark, and the desert for miles +around the ranch is all cut up with footprints and hoof-marks, you +know." + +Katherine wrung her hands. + +"Oh, poor little Rhoda!" she cried. "What shall we do!" + +"No harm can come to her," insisted Dick. "She will know enough to sit +tight till daylight, then we will have her before the heat gets up." + +"Oh, if she only will!" moaned Katherine. "Do whatever you think best, +Dick, and I'll send Jack and John DeWitt to you as soon as they return." + +Dick swung himself to the saddle again. + +"Better go in and read something, Mrs. Newman. You mustn't worry +yourself sick until you are sure you have something to worry about." + +How she passed the rest of the night, Katherine never knew. A little +after midnight, Jack came in, his face tense and anxious. Katherine +paled as she saw his expression. She knew he had met some of the +searchers. When Jack saw the color leave his wife's pretty cheeks, he +kissed her very tenderly and for a moment they clung to each other +silently, thinking of the delicate girl adrift on the desert. + +"Where is John DeWitt?" asked Katherine after a moment. + +"He's almost crazy. He's with Dick Freeman. Only stopped for a fresh +horse." + +"They have no trace?" questioned Katherine. + +Jack shook his head. + +"You know what a proposition it is to hunt for as small an object as a +human, in the desert. Give me your smelling salts and the little +Navajo blanket. One--one can't tell whether she's hurt or not." + +Katherine began to sob as she obeyed. + +"You are all angel good not to blame me, but I know it's my fault. I +shouldn't have let her go. But she is so sensible, usually." + +"Dear heart!" said Jack, rolling up the Navajo. "Any one that knows +dear old Rhoda knows that what she will, she will, and you are not to +blame. Go to bed and sleep if you can." + +"Oh, Jack, I can't! Let me go with you, do!" + +But Jack shook his head. + +"You aren't strong enough to do any good and some one must stay here to +run things." + +So again Katherine was left to pace the veranda. All night the search +went on. Jack sent messages to the neighboring ranches and the +following morning fifty men were in the saddle seeking Rhoda's trail. +Jack also sent into the Pueblo country for Kut-le, feeling that his aid +would be invaluable. It would take some time to get a reply from the +Indians and in the meantime the search went on rigorously, with no +trace of the trail to be found. + +John DeWitt did not return to the ranch until the afternoon after +Rhoda's disappearance. Then, disheveled, with bloodshot eyes, cracked +lips and blistered face, he dropped exhausted on the veranda steps. +Katherine and Jack greeted him with quiet sympathy. + +"I came in to get fixed up for a long cruise," said John. "My pony +went lame, and I want a flannel shirt instead of this silk thing I had +on last night. I wish to God Kut-le would come! I suppose he could +read what we are blind to." + +"You bet!" cried Jack. "I expect an answer from his friends this +afternoon. I just had a telegram from Porter, in answer to one I sent +him this morning. I caught him at Brown's and he will be here this +afternoon. He knows almost as much as an Indian about following a +trail." + +They all spoke in the hushed tones one employs in the sick-room. Jack +tried to persuade DeWitt to eat and sleep but he refused, his forced +calm giving way to a hoarse, "For heaven's sake, can I rest when she is +dying out there!" + +John had not finished his feverish preparations when Billy Porter +stalked into the living-room. As he entered, the telephone rang and +Jack answered it. Then he returned to the eager group. + +"Kut-le has gone on a long hunt with some of his people. They don't +know where he went and refuse to look for him." + +Billy Porter gave a hard, mirthless laugh. + +"Why certainly! Jack, you ought to have a hole bored into your head to +let in a little light. Kut-le gone. Can't find Rhoda's trail. Kut-le +in love with Rhoda. Kut-le an Indian. Rhoda refuses him--he goes +off--gets some of his chums and when he catches Rhoda alone he steals +her. He will keep a man behind, covering his trail. Oh, you easy +Easterners make me sick!" + +The Newmans and DeWitt stood staring at Porter with horror in their +eyes. The clock ticked for an instant then DeWitt gave a groan and +bowed his head against the mantelpiece. Katherine ran to him and tried +to pull his head to her little shoulder. + +"O John, don't! Don't! Maybe Billy is right. I'm afraid he is! But +one thing I do know. Rhoda is as safe in Kut-le's hands as she would +be in Jack's. I know it, John!" + +John did not move, but at Katherine's words the color came back into +Jack Newman's face. + +"That's right!" he said stoutly. "It's a devilish thing for Kut-le to +do. But she's safe, John, old boy, I'm sure she is." + +Billy Porter, conscience-stricken at the effect of his words, clapped +John on the shoulder. + +"Aw shucks! I let my Injun hate get the best of my tongue. Of course +she's safe enough; only the darn devil's got to be caught before he +gets to Mexico and makes some padre marry 'em. So it's us to the +saddle a whole heap." + +"We'd better get an Indian to help trail," said Jack. + +"You'll have a sweet time getting an Injun to trail Kut-le!" said +Porter. "The Injuns half worship him. They think he's got some kind +of strong medicine; you know that. You get one and he'll keep you off +the trail instead of on. I can follow the trail as soon as he quits +covering it. Get the canteens and come on. We don't need a million +cowboys running round promiscuous over the sand. Numbers don't help in +trailing an Injun. It's experience and patience. It may take us two +weeks and we'll outfit for that. But we'll get him in the end. Crook +always did." + +There was that in Billy Porter's voice which put heart into his +listeners. John DeWitt lifted his head, and while his blue eyes +returned the gaze of the others miserably, he squared his shoulders +doggedly. + +"I'm ready," he said briefly. + +"Oh, let me come!" cried Katherine. "I can't bear this waiting!" + +Billy smiled. + +"Why, Mrs. Jack, you'd be dried up and blowed away before the first day +was over." + +"But Rhoda is enduring it!" protested Katherine, with quivering lips. + +"God!" John DeWitt muttered and flung himself from the house to the +corral. The other two followed him at once. + +It was mid-afternoon when the three rode into the quivering yellow haze +of the desert followed by a little string of pack horses. It was now +nearing twenty-four hours since Rhoda had disappeared and in that time +there had been little sand blowing. This meant that the trail could be +easily followed were it found. The men rode single file, Billy Porter +leading. All wore blue flannel shirts and khaki trousers. John DeWitt +rode Eastern park fashion, with short stirrup, rising from the saddle +with the trot. Jack and Billy rode Western fashion, long stirrup, an +inseparable part of their horses, a fashion that John DeWitt was to be +forced to learn in the fearful days to come. + +Billy Porter declaimed in a loud voice from the head of the procession. + +"Of course, Kut-le has taken to the mountains. He'll steer clear of +ranches and cowboys for a while. Our chance lies in his giving up +covering his trail after he gets well into the ranges. We will get his +trail and hang on till we can outwit him. If he was alone, we'd never +get him, barring accident. But he will be a lot hampered by Miss Rhoda +and I trust to her to hamper him a whole lot after she gets her hand +in." + +All the rest of the burning afternoon they moved toward the mountains. +It was quite dusk when they entered the foothills. The way, not good +at best, grew difficult and dangerous to follow. Billy led on, +however, until darkness closed down on them in a little cactus-grown +cañon. Here he halted and ordered camp for a few hours. + +"Lord!" exclaimed DeWitt. "You're not going to camp! I thought you +were really going to do something!" + +Billy finished lighting the fire and by its light he gave an impatient +glance at the tenderfoot. But the look of the burned, sand-grimed +face, the bloodshot eyes, blazing with anxiety, caused him to speak +patiently. + +"Can't kill the horses, DeWitt. You must make up your mind that this +is going to be a hard hunt. You got to call out all the strength +you've been storing up all your life, and then some. We've got to use +common sense. Lord, I want to get ahead, don't I! I seen Miss Rhoda. +I know what she's like. This ain't any joy ride for me, either. I got +a lot of feeling in it." + +John DeWitt extended his sun-blistered right hand and Billy Porter +clasped it with his brown paw. + +Jack Newman cleared his throat. + +"Did you give your horse enough rope, John? There is a good lot of +grass close to the cañon wall. Quick as you finish your coffee, old +man, roll in your blanket. We will rest till midnight when the moon +comes up, eh, Billy?" + +DeWitt, finally convinced of the good sense and earnestness of his +friends, obeyed. The cañon was still in darkness when Jack shook him +into wakefulness but the mountain peak above was a glorious silver. +Camp was broken quickly and in a short time Billy was leading the way +up the wretched trail. DeWitt's four hours of sleep had helped him. +He could, to some degree, control the feverish anxiety that was +consuming him and he tried to turn his mind from picturing Rhoda's +agonies to castigating himself for leaving her unguarded even though +Kut-le had left the ranch. Before leaving the ranch that afternoon he +had telegraphed and written Rhoda's only living relative, her Aunt +Mary. He had been thankful as he wrote that Rhoda had no mother. He +had so liked the young Indian; there had been such good feeling between +them that he could not yet believe that Porter's surmise was wholly +correct. + +"Supposing," he said aloud, "that you are wrong, Porter? Supposing +that she's--she's dying of thirst down there in the desert? You have +no proof of Kut-le's doing it. It's only founded on your Indian hate, +you say yourself." + +"That's right," said Newman. "Are you sure we aren't wasting time, +Billy?" + +Billy turned in the saddle to face them. + +"Well, boys," he said, "you've got half the county scratching the +desert with a fine-tooth comb. I don't see how we three can help very +much there. On the other hand we might do some good up here. Now I'll +make a bargain with you. If by midnight tonight we ain't struck any +trace of her, you folks can quit." + +"And what will you do?" asked Jack. + +"Me?" Billy shrugged his shoulders. "Why, I'll keep on this trail +till my legs is wore off above my boots!" and he turned to guide his +pony up a little branch trail at the top of which stood a tent with the +telltale windlass and forge close by. + +Before the tent they drew rein. In response to Billy's call a +rough-bearded fellow lifted the tent flap and stood suppressing a yawn, +as if visitors to his lonely claim were of daily occurrence. + +"Say, friend," said Billy, "do you know Newman's ranch?" + +"Sure," returned the prospector. + +"Well, this is Mr. Newman. A young lady has been visiting him and his +wife. She disappeared night before last. We suspicion that Cartwell, +that educated Injun, has stole her. We're trying to find his trail. +Can you give us a hunch?" + +The sleepy look left the prospector's eyes. He crossed the rocks to +put a hand on Billy's pommel. + +"Gee! Ain't that ungodly!" he exclaimed. "I ain't seen a soul. But +night before last I heard a screaming in my sleep. It woke me up but +when I got out here I couldn't hear a thing. It was faint and far away +and I decided it was a wildcat. Do you suppose it was her?" + +DeWitt ground his teeth together and his hands shook but he made no +sound. Jack breathed heavily. + +"You think it was a woman?" asked Billy hoarsely. + +The prospector spoke hesitatingly. + +"If I'd been shore, I'd a gone on a hunt. But it was all kind of in my +sleep. It was from way back in the mountain there." + +"Thanks," said Billy, "we'll be on our way." + +"It's four o'clock. Better stop and have some grub with me, then I'll +join in and help you." + +"No!" cried DeWitt, breaking his silence. "No!" + +"That's the young lady's financier," said Billy, nodding toward John. + +"Sho!" said the prospector sympathetically. + +Billy lifted his reins. + +"Thanks, we'll be getting along, I guess. Just as much obliged to you. +We'll water here in your spring." + +They moved on in the direction whither the prospector had pointed. +They rode in silence. Dawn came slowly, clearly. The peaks lifted +magnificently, range after range against the rosy sky. There was no +trail. They followed the possible way. The patient little cow ponies +clambered over rocks and slid down inclines of a frightful angle as +cleverly as mountain goats. At ten o'clock, they stopped for breakfast +and a three hours' sleep. It was some time before DeWitt could be +persuaded to lie down but at last, perceiving that he was keeping the +others from their rest, he took his blanket to the edge of the ledge +and lay down. + +His sleepless eyes roved up and down the adjoining cañon. Far to the +south, near the desert floor, he saw a fluttering bit of white. Now a +fluttering bit of white, far from human byways, means something! +Tenderfoot though he was, DeWitt realized this and sleep left his eyes. +He sat erect. For a moment he was tempted to call the others but he +restrained himself. He would let them rest while he kept watch over +the little white beacon, for so, unaccountably, it seemed to him. He +eyed it hungrily, and then a vague comfort and hopefulness came to him +and he fell asleep. + +Jack's lusty call to coffee woke him. DeWitt jumped to his feet and +with a new light in his eyes he pointed out his discovery. The meal +was disposed of very hurriedly and, leaving Jack to watch the camp, +John and Billy crossed the cañon southward. After heavy scrambling +they reached the foot of the cañon wall. Twenty feet above them +dangled a white cloth. Catching any sort of hand and foot hold, John +clambered upward. Then he gave a great shout of joy. Rhoda's neck +scarf with the pebble pinned in one end was in his hands! DeWitt slid +to the ground and he and Billy examined the scarf tenderly, eagerly. + +"I told you! I told you!" exulted Billy hoarsely. "See that weight +fastened to it? Wasn't that smart of her? Bless her heart! Now we +got to get above, somehow, and find where she dropped it from!" + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +ENTERING THE DESERT KINDERGARTEN + +"We'll start now," said Kut-le. + +Alchise led out the horses. The squaws each threw an emancipated, +sinewy leg across a pony's back and followed Alchise's fluttering shirt +up the mountain. Kut-le stood holding the bridle of a sedate little +horse on which he had fastened a comfortable high-backed saddle. + +"Come, Rhoda," he said. "I'll shorten the stirrups after you are +mounted." + +Rhoda stood with her back to the wall, her blue-veined hands clutching +the rough out-croppings on either side, horror and fear in her eyes. + +"I can't ride cross-saddle!" she exclaimed. "I used to be a good +horsewoman in the side-saddle. But I'm so weak that even keeping in +the side-saddle is out of the question." + +"Anything except cross-saddle is utterly out of the question," replied +the Indian, "on the sort of trails we have to take. You might as well +begin to control your nerves now as later. I'm going to have an expert +rider in you by the time you have regained your strength. Come, Rhoda." + +The girl turned her face to the afterglow. Remote and pitiless lay the +distant crimson ranges. She shuddered and turned back to the young +Indian who stood watching her. For the moment all the agony of her +situation was concentrated in horror of another night in the saddle. + +"Kut-le, I _can't_!" + +"Shall I pick you up and carry you over here?" asked Kut-le patiently. + +In her weakness and misery, Rhoda's cleft chin quivered. There was +only merciless determination in the Indian's face. Slowly the girl +walked to his side. He swung her to the saddle, adjusted the stirrups +carefully, then fastened her securely to the saddle with a strap about +her waist. Rhoda watched him in the silence of utter fear. Having +settled the girl to his satisfaction, he mounted his own horse, and +Rhoda's pony followed him tractably up the trail. + +The trail rose steeply. After the first few dizzy moments, Rhoda, +clinging to the saddle with hands and knees, was thankful for the +security of her new seat. The scenery was uncanny to her terrorized +eyes. To the left were great overhanging walls with cactus growing +from every crevice; to the right, depth of cañon toward which she dared +not look but only trusted herself prayerfully to her steady little +horse. + +As the trail led higher and darkness settled, the cold grew intense and +Rhoda cowered and shivered. Yet through her fear and discomfort was +creeping surprise that her strength had endured even this long. In a +spot where the trail widened Kut-le dropped back beside her and she +felt the warm folds of a Navajo blanket about her shoulders. Neither +she nor the Indian spoke. The madness of the night before, the fear +and disgust of the afternoon gave way, slowly, to a lethargy of +exhaustion. All thought of her frightful predicament, of her friends' +anxiety, of Kut-le's treachery, was dulled by a weariness so great that +she could only cling to the saddle and pray for the trail to end. + +Kut-le, riding just ahead, glanced back constantly at the girl's dim +figure. But Rhoda was beyond pleading or protesting. The trail +twisted and undulated on and on. Each moment Rhoda felt less certain +of her seat. Each moment the motion of the horse grew more painful. +At last a faint odor of pine-needles roused her sinking senses and she +opened her heavy eyes. They had left the sickening edge of the cañon +and Alchise was leading them into a beautiful growth of pines where the +mournful hooting of owls gave a graveyard sadness to the moon-flecked +shadows. + +Here, in a long aisle of columnar pines, Kut-le called the first halt. +Rhoda reeled in her saddle. Before her horse had stopped, Kut-le was +beside her, unfastening her waist strap and lifting her to the ground. +He pulled the blanket from his own shoulders and Molly stretched it on +the soft pine-needles. Rhoda, half delirious, looked up into the young +Indian's face with the pathetic unconsciousness of a sick child. He +laid her carefully on the blanket. The two squaws hurriedly knelt at +Rhoda's side and with clever hands rubbed and manipulated the slender, +exhausted body until the girl opened her languid eyes. + +Kut-le, while this was being done, stood quietly by the blanket, his +fine face stern and intent. When Rhoda opened her eyes, he put aside +the two squaws, knelt and raised the girl's head and held a cup of the +rich broth to her lips. It was cold, yet it tasted good, and Rhoda +finished the cup without protest, then struggled to a sitting position. +After a moment Kut-le raised her gently to her feet. Here, however, +she pushed him away and walked unsteadily to her horse. Kut-le's hands +dropped to his side and he stood in the moonlight watching the frail +boyish figure clamber with infinite travail into the saddle. + +From the pine wood, the trail led downward. The rubbing and the broth +had put new life into Rhoda, and for a little while she kept a clear +brain. For the first time it occurred to her that instead of following +the Indians so stupidly she ought to watch her chance and at the first +opportunity make a wild dash off into the darkness. Kut-le was so sure +of her weakness and cowardice that she felt that he would be taken +completely by surprise and she might elude him. With a definite +purpose in her mind she was able to fight off again and again the blur +of weakness that threatened her. + +As the trail widened in the descent, Kut-le rode in beside her. + +"Feeling better?" he asked cheerfully. + +Rhoda made no reply. Such a passion of hatred for the man shook her +that words failed her. She turned a white face toward him, the eyes +black, the nostrils quivering with passion. + +Kut-le laughed softly. + +"Hate me, Rhoda! Hate me as much as you wish! That's a heap more +hopeful than indifference. I'll bet you aren't thinking of dying of +ennui now!" + +What fiend, thought Rhoda, ever had induced her to make a friend of +this savage! She clung to the pommel of her saddle, her eyes fastened +on him. If only he would drop dead as he sat! If only his Indians +would turn on him and kill him! + +They were riding through the desert now, desert thick-grown with cactus +and sage-brush. Suddenly a far away roar came to Rhoda's ears. There +was a faint whistle repeated with increasing loudness. Off to the +north appeared a light that grew till it threw a dazzling beam on the +strange little waiting group. The train passed, a half-dozen dimly +lighted Pullmans. The roaring decreased, the whistle sounded lower and +lower and the night was silent. Rhoda sat following the last dim light +with burning eyes. Kut-le led the way from the difficult going of the +desert to the road-bed. As Rhoda saw the long line of rails the panic +of the previous night overwhelmed her. Like a mad thing, unmindful of +the strap about her waist she threw herself from the saddle and hung +against the stolid pony. Kut-le dismounted and undid the strap. The +girl dropped to the ties and lay crouched with her face against the +steel rail. + +"O John! O John DeWitt!" she sobbed. + +"Alchise, go ahead with the horses," said Kut-le. "Wait for me at the +painted rock." + +Then as the Indians became indistinguishable along the track he lifted +Rhoda to her feet. + +"Walk for a while," he said. "It will rest you. Poor little girl! I +wish I could have managed differently but this was best for you. Come, +don't be afraid of me!" + +Some savage instinct stirred in Rhoda. For the first time in her life +she felt an insane joy in anger. + +"I'm not afraid of you, you Apache Indian!" she said clearly. "I +loathe you! Your touch poisons me! But I'm not afraid of you! I +shall choke myself with my bare hands before you shall harm me! And if +you keep me long enough I shall try to kill you!" + +Kut-le gave a short laugh. + +"Listen, Rhoda. Your protests show that you are afraid of me. But you +need not be. Your protection lies in the fact that I love you--love +you with all the passion of a savage, all the restraint of a Caucasian. +I'd rather die than harm you! Why, girl, I'm saving you, not +destroying you! Rhoda! Dear one!" He paused and Rhoda could hear his +quickened breath. Then he added lightly, "Let's get on with our little +stroll!" + +Rhoda wrung her hands and groaned. Only to escape--to escape! +Suddenly turning, she ran down the track. Kut-le watched her, +motionless, until she had run perhaps a hundred yards, then with a few +mighty leaps he overtook her and gathered her to his great chest. +Moaning, Rhoda lay still. + +"Dear," said Kut-le, "don't exert yourself foolishly. If you must +escape, lay your plans carefully. Use your brain. Don't act like a +child. I love you, Rhoda!" + +"I loathe you! I loathe you!" whispered the girl. + +"You don't--ah--" He stopped abruptly and set the girl on the ground. +They were standing beside a side-track near a desert water-tank. "I've +caught my foot in a switch-frog," muttered Kut-le, keeping his hold on +Rhoda with one hand while with the other he tugged at his moccasined +foot. + +Rhoda stood rigid. + +"I hear a train!" she cried. "O dear God, I hear a train!" Then, "The +other Indians are too far away to reach you before the train does," she +added calmly. + +"But I'll never loose my grip on you," returned the Indian grimly. + +He tore at the imprisoned foot, ripping the moccasin and tearing at the +road bed. The rails began to sing. Far down the track they saw a star +of light Rhoda's heart stood still. This, then, was to be the end! +After all the months of distant menace, death was to be upon her in a +moment! This, then, was to be the solution! And with all the horror +of what life might mean to her, she cried out with a sob: + +"Oh, not this way! Not this way!" + +Kut-le gave her a quick push. + +"Hurry," he said, "and try to remember good things of me!" + +With a cry of joy, Rhoda jumped from the track, then stopped. There +flashed across her inner vision the face of young Cartwell, debonair +and dark, with unfathomable eyes; young Cartwell who had saved her life +when the scorpion had stung her, who had spent hours trying to lead her +back to health. Instantly she turned and staggered back to the Indian. + +"I can't let a human being die like a trapped animal!" she panted, and +she threw herself wildly against him. + +Kut-le fell at the unexpected impact of her weight and his foot was +freed! He lifted Rhoda, leaped from the track, and the second section +of the tourist train thundered into the west. + +"You are as fine as I thought you were--" he began. But Rhoda was a +limp heap at his feet. + +The girl came to her senses partially when Kut-le set her in the saddle +and fastened her there with strap and blanket. But happily she was +practically unconscious for the hour or two that remained till dawn. +Just as day was breaking the Indians made their way across an arroyo +and up a long slope to a group of cottonwoods. Here Rhoda was put to +bed on a heap of blankets. + +Sometime in the afternoon she woke with a clear head. It was the first +time in months that she had wakened without a headache. She stared +from the shade of the cottonwoods to the distant lavender haze of the +desert. There was not a sound in all the world. Mysterious, remote, +the desert stared back at her, mocking her little grief. More terrible +to her than her danger in Kut-le's hands, more appalling than the death +threat that had hung over her so long, was this sense of awful space, +of barren nothingness with which the desert oppressed her. +Instinctively she turned to look for human companionship. Kut-le and +Alchise were not to be seen but Molly nodded beside Rhoda's blankets +and the thin hag Cesca was curled in the grass near by, asleep. + +"You awake? Heap hungry?" asked Molly suddenly. + +Rhoda sat up, groaning at the torturing stiffness of her muscles. + +"Where is Kut-le?" she asked. + +"Gone get 'em supper. Alchise gone too." + +"Molly," Rhoda took the rough brown hand between both her soft cold +palms, "Molly, will you help me to run away?" + +Molly looked from the clasping fingers up to Rhoda's sweet face. Molly +was a squaw, dirty and ignorant. Rhoda was the delicate product of a +highly cultivated civilization, egoistic, narrow-viewed, self-centered. +And yet Rhoda, looking into Molly's deep brown eyes, saw there that +limitless patience and fortitude and gentleness which is woman's +without regard to class or color. And not knowing why, the white girl +bowed her head on the squaw's fat shoulder and sobbed a little. A +strange look came into Molly's face. She was childless and had worked +fearfully to justify her existence to her tribe. Few hands had touched +hers in tenderness. Few voices had appealed to her for sympathy. +Suddenly Molly clasped Rhoda in her strong arms and swayed back and +forth with her gently. + +"You no cry!" she said. "You no cry, little Sun-head, you no cry!" + +"Molly, dear kind Molly, won't you help me to get back to my own +people? Suppose it was your daughter that a white man had stolen! O +Molly, I want to go home!" + +Molly still rocked and spoke in the singsong voice one uses to a +sobbing child. + +"You no run 'way! Kut-le catch right off! Make it all harder for you!" + +Rhoda shivered a little. + +"If I once get away, Kut-le never will catch me alive!" + +Molly chuckled indulgently. + +"How you run? No _sabe_ how eat, how drink, how find the trail! +Better stay with Molly." + +"I would wait till I thought we were near a town. Won't you help me? +Dear, kind Molly, won't you help me?" + +"Kut-le kill Molly with cactus torture!" + +"But you go with me!" The sobs ceased and Rhoda sat back on her +blankets as the idea developed. "You go with me and I'll make you--" + +Neither noticed the soft thud of moccasined feet. Suddenly Alchise +seized Molly's black hair and with a violent jerk pulled the woman +backward. Rhoda forgot her stiffened muscles, forgot her gentle +ancestry. She sprang at Alchise with catlike fury and struck his +fingers from Molly's hair. + +"You fiend! I wish I could shoot you!" she panted, her fingers +twitching. + +Alchise retreated a step. + +"She try help 'em run!" he said sullenly. + +"She was not! And no matter if she was! Don't you touch a woman +before me!" + +A swift shadow crossed the camp and Alchise was hurled six feet away. + +"What's the matter!" cried Kut-le. "Has he laid finger on you, Rhoda?" +He strode to her side and looked down at her with eyes in which +struggled anger and anxiety. + +"No!" blazed Rhoda. "But he pulled Molly over backward by her hair!" + +"Oh!" in evident relief. "And what was Molly doing?" + +"She maybe help 'em run," said Alchise, coming forward. + +The relief in Kut-le's voice increased Rhoda's anger. + +"No such thing! She was persuading me not to go! Kut-le, you give +Alchise orders not to touch Molly again. I won't have it!" + +"Oh, that's not necessary," said Kut-le serenely. "Indians are pretty +good to their women as a general thing. They average up with the +whites, I guess. Molly, get up and help Cesca with these!" He flung +some newly killed rabbits at the gaping squaw, who still lay where she +had fallen. + +Rhoda, trembling and glowering, walked unsteadily up and down beneath +the cottonwoods. The details of her new existence, the dirt, the +roughness, were beginning to sink in on her. She paced back and forth, +lips compressed, eyes black. Kut-le stood with his back against a +cottonwood eying the slender figure with frank delight. Now and again +he chuckled as he rolled a cigarette with his facile finger. His hands +were fine as only an Indian's can be: strong and sinewy yet supple with +slender fingers and almond-shaped nails. + +He smoked contentedly with his eyes on the girl. Inscrutable as was +his face at a casual glance, had Rhoda observed keenly she might have +read much in the changing light of his eyes. There was appreciation of +her and love of her and a merciless determination to hold her at all +costs. And still as he gazed there was that tragedy in his look which +is part and portion of the Indian's face. + +Silence in the camp had continued for some time when a strange young +Indian strode up the slope, nodded to the group in the camp, and +deliberately rolled himself in a blanket and dropped to sleep. Rhoda +stared at him questioningly. + +"Alchise's and Cesca's son," said Kut-le. "His job is to follow us at +a distance and remove all trace of our trail. Not an overturned pebble +misses his eye. I'll need him only for a day or two." + +"Kut-le," said Rhoda suddenly, "when are you going to end the farce and +let me go?" + +The young man smiled. + +"You know the way the farce usually ends! The man always gets the girl +and they live happily forever after!" + +"What do you suppose Jack and Katherine think of you? They have loved +and trusted you so!" + +For the first time the Indian's face showed pain. + +"My hope is," he said, "that after they see how happy I am going to +make you they will forgive me." + +Rhoda controlled her voice with difficulty. + +"Can't you see what you have done? No matter what the outcome, can you +believe that I or any one that loves me can forgive the outrage to me?" + +"After we have married and lived abroad for a year or two people will +remember only the romance of it!". + +"Heavens!" ejaculated Rhoda. She returned to her angry walking. + +Molly was preparing supper. She worked always with one eye on Rhoda, +as if she could not see enough of the girl's fragile loveliness. With +her attention thus divided, she stumbled constantly, dropping the pots +and spilling the food. She herself was not at all disturbed by her +mishaps but, with a grimace and a chuckle, picked up the food. But +Cesca was annoyed. She was tending the fire which by a marvel of skill +she kept always clear and all but smokeless. At each of Molly's +mishaps, Cesca hurled a stone at her friend's back with a savage +"Me-yah!" that disturbed Molly not at all. + +Mercifully night was on the camp by the time the rabbits were cooked +and Rhoda ate unconscious of the dirt the food had acquired in the +cooking. When the silent meal was finished, Kut-le pointed to Rhoda's +blankets. + +"We will start in half an hour. You must rest during that time." + +Too weary to resent the peremptory tone, Rhoda obeyed. The fire long +since had been extinguished and the camp was dark. The Indians were to +be located only by faint whispers under the trees. The opportunity +seemed providential! Rhoda slipped from her blankets and crept through +the darkness away from the camp. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE FIRST LESSON + +After crawling on her hands and knees for several yards, Rhoda rose and +started on a run down the long slope to the open desert. But after a +few steps she found running impossible, for the slope was a wilderness +of rock, thickly grown with cholla and yucca with here and there a +thicker growth of cat's-claw. + +Almost at once her hands were torn and bleeding and she thought +gratefully for the first time of her buckskin trousers which valiantly +resisted all detaining thorns. The way dropped rapidly and after her +first wild spurt Rhoda leaned exhausted and panting against a boulder. +She had not the vaguest idea of where she was going or of what she was +going to do, except that she was going to lose herself so thoroughly +that not even Kut-le could find her. After that she was quite willing +to trust to fate. + +After a short rest she started on, every sense keen for the sound of +pursuit, but none came. As the silent minutes passed Rhoda became +elated. How easy it was! What a pity that she had not tried before! +At the foot of the slope, she turned up the arroyo. Here her course +grew heavier. The arroyo was cut by deep ruts and gullies down which +the girl slid and tumbled in mad haste only to find rock masses over +which she crawled with utmost difficulty. Now and again the stout +vamps of her hunting boots were pierced by chollas and, half frantic in +her haste, she was forced to stop and struggle to pull out the thorns. + +It was not long before the girl's scant strength was gone, and when +after a mad scramble she fell from a boulder to the ground, she was too +done up to rise. She lay face to the stars, half sobbing with +excitement and disappointment. After a time, however, the sobs ceased +and she lay thinking. She knew now that until she was inured to the +desert and had a working knowledge of its ways, escape was impossible. +She must bide her time and wait for her friends to rescue her. She had +no idea how far she had come from the Indian camp. Whether or not +Kut-le could find her again she could not guess. If he did not, then +unless a white stumbled on her she must die in the desert. Well then, +let it be so! The old lethargy closed in on her and she lay motionless +and hopeless. + +From all sides she heard the night howls of the coyote packs circling +nearer and nearer. Nothing could more perfectly interpret the horrible +desolation of the desert, Rhoda thought, than the demoniacal, +long-drawn laughter of the coyote. How long she lay she neither knew +nor cared. But just as she fancied that the coyotes had drawn so near +that she could hear their footsteps, a hand was laid on her arm. + +"Have you had enough, Rhoda?" asked Kut-le. + +"No!" shuddered Rhoda. "I'd rather die here!" + +The Indian laughed softly as he lifted her from the ground. + +"A good hater makes a good lover, Rhoda," he said. "I wish I'd had +time to let you learn your lesson more thoroughly. I haven't been +twenty-five feet away from you since you left the camp. I wanted you +to try your hand at it just so you'd realize what you are up against. +But you've tired yourself badly." + +Rhoda lay mute in the young man's arms. She was not thinking of his +words but of the first time that the Indian had carried her. She saw +John DeWitt's protesting face, and tears of weakness and despair ran +silently down her cheeks. Kut-le strode rapidly and, unhesitatingly +over the course she had followed so painfully and in a few moments they +were among the waiting Indians. + +Kut-le put Rhoda in her saddle, fastened her securely and put a Navajo +about her shoulders. The night's misery was begun. Whether they went +up and down mountains, whether they crossed deserts, Rhoda neither knew +nor cared. The blind purpose of clinging to the saddle was the one aim +of the dreadful night. She was a little light-headed at times and with +her head against the horse's neck, she murmured John DeWitt's name, or +sitting erect she called to him wildly. At such times Kut-le's fingers +tightened and he clinched his teeth, but he did not go to her. When, +however, the frail figure drooped silently and inertly against the +waist strap he seemed to know even in the darkness. Then and then only +he lifted her down, the squaws massaged her wracked body, and she was +put in the saddle again. Over and over during the night this was +repeated until at dawn Rhoda was barely conscious that after being +lifted to the ground she was not remounted but was covered carefully +and left in peace. + +It was late in the afternoon again when Rhoda woke. She pushed aside +her blankets and tried to get up but fell back with a groan. The +stiffness of the previous days was nothing whatever to the misery that +now held every muscle rigid. The overexertion of three nights in the +saddle which the massaging had so far mitigated had asserted itself and +every muscle in the girl's body seemed acutely painful. To lift her +hand to her hair, to draw a long breath, to turn her head, was almost +impossible. + +Rhoda looked dismally about her. The camp this time was on the side of +a mountain that lay in a series of mighty ranges, each separated from +the other by a narrow strip of desert. White and gold gleamed the +snow-capped peaks. Purple and lavender melted the shimmering desert +into the lifting mesas. Rhoda threw her arm across her eyes to hide +the hateful sight, and moaned in pain at the movement. + +Molly ran to her side. + +"Your bones heap sick? Molly rub 'em?" she asked eagerly. + +"O Molly, if you would!" replied Rhoda gratefully, and she wondered at +the skill and gentleness of the Indian woman who manipulated the aching +muscles with such rapidity and firmness that in a little while Rhoda +staggered stiffly to her feet. + +"Molly," she said, "I want to wash my face." + +Molly puckered up her own face in her effort to understand, and +scratched her head. + +"Don't _sabe_ that," she said. + +"Wash my face!" repeated Rhoda in astonishment. "Of course you +understand." + +Molly laughed. + +"No! You no wash! No use! You just get cold--heap cold!" + +"Molly!" called Kut-le's authoritative voice. + +Molly went flying toward the packs, from which she returned with a +canteen and a tiny pitch-smeared basket. Kut-le followed with a towel. +He grinned at Rhoda. + +"Molly is possessed with the idea that anything as frail as you would +be snuffed out like a candle by a drop of water. You and I each +possess a lone lorn towel which we must wash out ourselves till the end +of the trip. The squaws don't know when a thing is clean." + +Rhoda took the towel silently, and the young Indian, after waiting a +minute as if in hope of a word from her, left the girl to her difficult +toilet. When Rhoda had finished she picked up the field-glasses that +Kut-le had left on her blankets and with her back to the Indians sat +down on a rock to watch the desert. + +The sordid discomforts of the camp seemed to her unbearable. She hated +the blue haze of the desert below and beyond her. She hated the very +ponies that Alchise was leading up from water. It was the fourth day +since her abduction. Rhoda could not understand why John and the +Newmans were so slow to overtake her. She knew nothing as yet of the +skill of her abductors. She was like an ignorant child placed in a new +world whose very ABC was closed to her. After always having been cared +for and protected, after never having known a hardship, the girl +suddenly was thrust into an existence whose savage simplicity was +sufficient to try the hardiest man. + +Supper was eaten in silence, Kut-le finally giving up his attempts to +make conversation. It was dusk when they mounted and rode up the +mountain. Near the crest a whirling cloud of mist enveloped them. It +became desperately cold and Rhoda shivered beneath her Navajo but +Kut-le gave no heed to her. He led on and on, the horses slipping, the +cold growing every minute more intense. At last there appeared before +them a dim figure silhouetted against a flickering light. Kut-le +halted his party and rode forward; Rhoda saw the dim figure rise +hastily and after a short time Kut-le called back. + +"Come ahead!" + +The little camp was only an open space at the cañon edge, with a +sheepskin shelter over a tiny fire. Beside the fire stood a +sheep-herder, a swarthy figure wrapped from head to foot in sheepskins. +Over in the darkness by the mountain wall were the many nameless sounds +that tell of animals herding for the night. The shepherd greeted them +with the perfect courtesy of the Mexican. + +"Señors, the camp is yours!" + +Kut-le lifted the shivering Rhoda from her horse. The rain was +lessening but the cold was still so great that Rhoda huddled gratefully +by the little fire under the sheepskin shelter. Kut-le refused the +Mexican's offer of tortillas and the man sat down to enjoy their +society. He eyed Rhoda keenly. + +"Ah! It is a señorita!" Then he gasped. "It is perhaps the Señorita +Rhoda Tuttle!" + +Rhoda jumped to her feet. + +"Yes! Yes! How did you know?" + +Kut-le glared at the herder menacingly, but the little fellow did not +see. He spoke up bravely, as if he had a message for Rhoda. + +"Some people told me yesterday. They look for her everywhere!" + +Rhoda's eyes lighted joyfully. + +"Who? Where?" she cried. + +Kut-le spoke concisely: + +"You know nothing!" he said. + +The Mexican looked into the Apache's eyes and shivered slightly. + +"Nothing, of course, Señor," he replied. + +But Rhoda was not daunted. + +"Who were they?" she repeated. "What did they say? Where did they go?" + +The herder glanced at Rhoda and shook his head. + +"_Quién sabe_?" + +Rhoda turned to Kut-le in anger. + +"Don't be more brutal than you have to be!" she cried. "What harm can +it do for this man to give me word of my friends?" + +Kut-le's eyes softened. + +"Answer the señorita's questions, amigo," he said. + +The Mexican began eagerly. + +"There were three. They rode up the trail one day ago. They called +the dark man Porter, the big blue-eyed one DeWitt, and the +yellow-haired one Newman." + +Rhoda clasped her hands with a little murmur of relief. + +"The blue-eyed one acted as if locoed. They cursed much at a name, +Kut-le. But otherwise they talked little. They went that way," +pointing back over the trail. "They had found a scarf with a stone +tied in it--" + +"What's that?" interrupted Kut-le sharply. + +Rhoda's eyes shone in the firelight. + +"'Not an overturned pebble escapes his eye,'" she said serenely. + +"Bully for you!" exclaimed Kut-le, smiling at Rhoda in understanding. +"However, I guess we will move on, having gleaned this interesting +news!" + +He remounted his little party. Rhoda reeled a little but she made no +protest. As they took to the trail again the sheep-herder stood by the +fire, watching, and Rhoda called to him: + +"If you see them again tell them that I'm all right but that they must +hurry!" + +Rhoda felt new life in her veins after the meeting with the +sheep-herder and finished the night's trail in better shape than she +had done before. Yet not the next day nor for many days did they sight +pursuers. With ingenuity that seemed diabolical, Kut-le laid his +course. He seldom moved hurriedly. Indeed, except for the fact that +the traveling was done by night, the expedition had every aspect of +unlimited leisure. + +As the days passed, Rhoda forced herself to the calm of desperation. +Slowly she realized that she was in the hands of the masters of the art +of flight, an art that the very cruelty of the country abetted. But to +her utter astonishment her delirium of physical misery began to lift. +Saddle stiffness after the first two weeks left her. Though Kut-le +still fastened her to the saddle by the waist strap and rested her for +a short time every hour or so during the night's ride, the hours in the +saddle ceased to tax her strength. She was surprised to find that she +could eat--eat the wretched cooking of the squaws! + +At last she laid out a definite course for herself. Every night on the +trail and at every camp she tried to leave some mark for the whites--a +scratch on pebble or stone, a bit of marked yucca or a twisted +cat's-claw. She ceased entirely to speak to Kut-le, treating him with +a contemptuous silence that was torture to the Indian though he gave no +outward sign. + +Molly was her devoted friend and Rhoda derived great comfort from this +faithful servitor. Rhoda sat in the camp one afternoon with the two +squaws while Kut-le and Alchise were off on a turkey hunt. Some of the +girl's pallor had given way to a delicate tan. The dark circles about +her eyes had lightened a little. Molly was busily pounding grass-seeds +between two stones. Rhoda watched her idly. Suddenly a new idea sent +the blood to her thin cheeks. + +Why shouldn't she learn to make seed meal, to catch and cook rabbits, +to distinguish edible cactus from inedible? Then indeed she would be +able to care for herself on the trail! To Rhoda, who never had worked +with her hands, who indeed had come to look on manual labor as +belonging to inferiors, the idea was revolutionary. For a long time +she turned it over in her mind, watching Molly the while. The most +violent housewifely task that Rhoda ever had undertaken had been the +concocting of chafing-dish messes at school. + +"Molly," she said suddenly, "teach me how to do that!" + +Molly paused and grinned delightedly. + +"All right! You come help poor Molly!" + +With Cesca looking on sardonically, Molly poured fresh seeds on her +rude metate and showed Rhoda the grinding roll that flattened and broke +the little grains. Despite her weak fingers Rhoda took to the work +easily. As she emptied out the first handful of meal, a curious sense +of pleasure came to her. Squatting before the metate, she looked at +the little pile of bruised seeds with the utmost satisfaction. Molly +poured more seeds on the metate and Rhoda began again. She was hard at +her task, her cheeks flushed with interest, when Kut-le returned. +Rhoda did not see the sudden look of pleasure in his eyes. + +"You will tire yourself," he said. + +Rhoda did not answer, but poured another handful of seed on the metate. + +"You'll begin to like the life," he went on, "by the time you are +educated enough to leave us." He turned teasingly to Cesca. "You +think the white squaw can cross the desert soon by herself?" + +Cesca spat disdainfully. + +"No! White squaw no good! All time sit, sit, no work! Kut-le heap +fool!" + +"Oh, Cesca," cried Rhoda, "I'm too sick to work! And see this meal +I've made! Isn't it good?" + +Cesca glanced disdainfully at the little heap of meal Rhoda had bruised +out so painfully. + +"Huh!" she grunted. "Feed 'em to the horses. Injuns no eat 'em!" + +Rhoda looked from the meal to her slender, tired fingers. Cesca's +contempt hurt her unaccountably. In her weakness her cleft chin +quivered. She turned to Molly. + +"Do you think it's so bad, Molly?" + +That faithful friend grunted with rage and aimed a vicious kick at +Cesca. Then she put a protecting arm about Rhoda. + +"It's heap fine! Cesca just old fool. You love Molly. Let Cesca go +to hell!" + +Kut-le had been watching the little scene with tender eyes. Now he +stooped and lifted Rhoda to her feet, then he raised one of the +delicate hands and touched it softly with his lips. + +"Leave such work to the squaws, dear! You aren't built for it. Cesca, +you old lobster, you make me tired! Go fix the turkeys!" + +Cesca rose with dignity, flipped away her cigarette and walked with a +sniff over to the cooking-pot. Rhoda drew her hands from the young +Indian's clasp and walked to the edge of the camp. The hot pulse that +the touch of Kut-le's lips sent through her body startled her. + +"I hate him!" she said to herself. "I hate him! I hate him!" + +The trail that night was unusually difficult and Rhoda had to be rested +frequently. At each stop, Kut-le tried to talk to her but she +maintained her silence. They paused at dawn in a pocket formed by the +meeting of three divergent cañons. Far, far above the desert as they +were, still farther above them stretched the wonderful barren ridges, +snow-capped and silent. As Rhoda stood waiting for the squaws to +spread her blankets the peaks were lighted suddenly by the rays of the +still unseen sun. For one unspeakable instant their snow crowns +flashed a translucent scarlet that trembled, shimmered, then melted to +a pink, then to a white so pure, so piercing that Rhoda trembled with +sudden awe. Then as she looked, the sun rolled into view, blinding her +eyes, and she turned to her waiting blankets. + +She had slept for several hours when she was wakened by a soft tap on +her shoulder. She opened her eyes and would have risen but a voice +whispered: + +"Hush! Don't move!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +A BROADENING HORIZON + +Rhoda lay stiffly, her heart beating wildly. Kut-le and the squaws, +each a muffled, blanketed figure, lay sleeping some distance away. Old +Alchise stood on solitary guard at the edge of the camp with his back +to her. + +"Make as if you wanted to shift your blankets toward the cat's-claw +bush behind you!" went on the whispered voice. + +Obediently, Rhoda sat erect. Alchise turned slowly to light a +cigarette out of the wind. Rhoda yawned, rose sleepily, looked under +her blanket and shook her, head irritably, then dragged her blankets +toward the neighboring cat's-claw. Again she settled herself to sleep. +Alchise turned back to his view of the desert. + +"I'm behind the bush here," whispered the voice. "I'm a prospector. +Saw you make camp. I don't know where any of the search parties are +but if you can crawl round to me I'll guarantee to get you to 'em +somehow. Slip out of your blankets and leave 'em, rounded up as if you +was still under 'em. Quick now and careful!" + +Rhoda, her eyes never leaving Alchise's impassive back, drew herself +silently and swiftly from her blankets and with a clever touch or two +rounded them. Then she crept around the cat's-claw, where a man +squatted, his eyes blazing with excitement. He put up a sinewy, hand +to pull her from sight when, without warning, Rhoda sneezed. + +Instantly there was the click of a rifle and Alchise shouted: + +"Stop!" + +"Confound it!" growled the man, rising to full view, "why didn't you +swallow it!" + +"I couldn't!" replied Rhoda indignantly. "You don't suppose I wanted +to!" + +She turned toward the camp. Alchise was standing stolidly covering +them with his rifle. Kut-le was walking coolly toward them, while the +squaws sat gaping. + +"Well!" exclaimed Kut-le. "What can we do for you, Jim?" + +The stranger, a rough tramp-like fellow in tattered overalls, wiped his +face, on which was a week's stubble. + +"I'd always thought you was about white, Cartwell," he said, "but I see +you're no better than the rest of them. What are you going to do with +me?" + +Kut-le eyed his unbidden guest speculatively. + +"Well, we'll have something to eat first. I don't like to think on an +empty stomach. Come over to my blanket and sit down, Jim." + +Ignoring Rhoda, who was watching him closely, Kut-le seated himself on +his blanket beside Jim and offered him a cigarette, which was refused. + +"I don't want no favors from you, Cartwell." His voice was surly. +There was something more than his rough appearance that Rhoda disliked +about the man but she didn't know just what it was. Kut-le's eyes +narrowed, but he lighted his own cigarette without replying. "You're +up to a rotten trick and you know it, Cartwell," went on Jim. "You +take my advice and let me take the girl back to her friends and you +make tracks down into Mexico as fast as the Lord'll let you." + +Kut-le shifted the Navajo that hung over his naked shoulders. He gave +a short laugh that Rhoda had never heard from him before. + +"Let her go with you, Jim Provenso! You know as well as I do that she +is safer with an Apache! Anything else?" + +"Yes, this else!" Jim's voice rose angrily. "If ever we get a chance +at you, we'll hang you sky high, see? This may go with Injuns but not +with whites, you dirty pup!" + +Suddenly Kut-le rose and, dropping his blanket, stood before the white +man in his bronze perfection. + +"Provenso, you aren't fit to look at a decent woman! Don't put on dog +just because you belong to the white race. You're disreputable, and +you know it. Don't speak to Miss Tuttle again; you are too rotten!" + +The prospector had risen and stood glaring at Kut-le. + +"I'll kill you for that yet, you dirty Injun!" he shouted. + +"Shucks!" sniffed the Indian. "You haven't the nerve to injure +anything but a woman!" + +Jim's face went purple. + +"For two bits I'd knock your block off, right now." + +"There isn't a cent in the camp." Kut-le turned to Rhoda. "You get the +point of the conversation, I hope?" + +Rhoda's eyes were blazing. She had gotten the point, and yet--Jim was +a white man! Anything white was better than an Indian. + +"I'd take my chances with Mr. Provenso," she said, joyfully conscious +that nothing could have hurt Kut-le more than this reply. + +Kut-le's lips stiffened. + +"Lunch is ready," he said. + +"None of _your_ grub for mine," remarked Jim. "What are you going to +do with me?" + +"Alchise!" called Kut-le. "Eat something, then take this fellow out +and lose him. Take the rest of the day to it. You know the next camp!" + +Then he folded his arms across his chest and waited for Alchise to +finish his meal. Jim stood in sullen silence for a minute. Then he +seated himself on a nearby rock. + +"No, you don't," he said. "If you get me out of here, you'll have to +use force." + +Kut-le shrugged his shoulders. + +"A gun at your back will move you!" + +Rhoda was looking at the white man's face with a great longing. He was +rough and ugly, but he was of her own breed. Suddenly the longing for +her own that she was beginning to control surged to her lips. + +"I can't bear this!" she cried. "I'm going mad! I'm going mad!" + +All the camp turned startled faces toward the girl, and Rhoda recovered +her self-possession. She ran to Kut-le and laid her hand on his arm, +lifting a lovely, pleading face to his. + +"O Kut-le! Kut-le!" in the tone that she had used to Cartwell. "Can't +you see that it's no use? He is white, Kut-le! Let me go with him! +Let me go back to my own people! O Kut-le, let me go! O let me go!" + +Kut-le looked down at the hand on his arm. Rhoda was too excited to +notice that his whole body shook at this unwonted touch. His voice was +caressing but his face remained inscrutable. + +"Dear girl," he answered, "he is not your kind! He might originally +have been of your color, but now he's streaked with yellow. Let him +go. You are safer here with me!" + +Rhoda turned from him impatiently. + +"It's quite useless," she said to Jim; "no pleading or threat will move +him. But I do thank you--" her voice breaking a little. "Go back with +Alchise and tell them to come for me quickly!" + +Some responsive flash of sympathy came to Jim's bleared eyes. + +Rhoda stood watching Alchise marshall him out of the camp. She moaned +helplessly: + +"O my people, my own people!" and Kut-le eyed her with unfathomable +gaze. + +As soon as lunch was finished, camp was broken. All the rest of the +day and until toward midnight they wound up a wretched trail that +circled the mountain ranges, For hours, Kut-le did not speak to Rhoda. +These days of Rhoda's contempt were very hard on him. The touch of her +hand that morning, the old note in her voice, still thrilled him. At +midnight as they watched the squaws unroll her blankets, he touched her +shoulder. + +"Dear," he said, in his rich voice, "it is in you to love me if only I +am patient. And--God, but it's worth all the starvation in the +meantime! Won't you say good-night to me, Rhoda?" + +Rhoda looked at the stalwart figure in the firelight. The young eyes +so tragic in their youth, the beautiful mouth, sad in its firm curves, +were strangely appealing. Just for an instant the horrors of the past +weeks vanished. + +"Good-night!" said Rhoda. Then she rolled herself in her blankets and +slept. By the next morning, however, the old repulsion had returned +and she made no response to Kut-le's overtures. + +Day succeeded day now, until Rhoda lost all track of time. Endlessly +they crossed desert and mountain ridges. Endlessly they circled +through dusky cañon and sun-baked arroyo. Always Rhoda looked forward +to each new camping-place with excitement. Here, the rescuers might +stumble upon them! Always she started at each unexpected shadow along +the trail. Always she thrilled at a wisp of smokelike cloud beyond the +cañon edge. Always she felt a quiver of certainty at sudden break of +twig or fall of stone. But the days passed and gradually hope changed +to desperation. + +The difficulties of the camp life would have been unbearable to her had +not her natural fortitude and her intense pride come to her rescue. +The estimate of her that Kut-le had so mercilessly presented to her the +first day of her abduction returned to her more and more clearly as the +days wore on. At first she thought of them only with scorn. Then as +her loneliness increased and she was forced back upon herself she grew +to wonder what in her had given the Indian such an opinion. There was +something in the nakedness of the desert, something in its piercing +austerity that forced her to truthfulness with herself. Little by +little she found herself trying to acquire Kut-le's view of her. + +Her liking for Molly grew. She spent long afternoons with the squaw, +picking up desert lore. + +"Do you like to work, Molly?" she asked the squaw one afternoon, as she +sorted seed for Molly to bruise. + +"What else to do?" asked Molly. "Sit with hands folded on stomach, so? +No! Still hands make crazy head. Now you work with your hands you no +so sorry in head, huh?" + +Rhoda thought for a moment. There was a joy in the rude camp tasks +that she had assumed that she never had found in golf or automobiling. +She nodded, then said wistfully: + +"You think I'm no good at all, don't you, Molly?" + +Molly shrugged her shoulders. + +"Me not got papooses. You not got papooses. Molly and you no good! +Molly is heap strong. What good is that? When she die she no has +given her strength to tribe, no done any good that will last. You are +heap beautiful. What good is that? You no give your face to your +tribe. What good are you? Molly and you might as well die tomorrow. +Work, have papooses, die. That all squaws are for. Great Spirit says +so. Squaw's own heart says so." + +Rhoda sat silently looking at the squaw's squat figure, the +toil-scarred fingers, the good brown eyes out of which looked a woman's +soul. Vaguely Rhoda caught a point of view that made her old ideals +seem futile. She smoothed the Indian woman's hands. + +"I sometimes think you are a bigger woman than I am, Molly," she said +humbly. + +"You are heap good to look at." Molly spoke wistfully. "Molly heap +homely. You think that makes any difference to the Great Spirit?" + +Rhoda's eyes widened, a little. Did it make any difference? After +all, what counted with the Great Spirit? She stared at the barren +ranges that lifted mute peaks to the silent heavens. Always, always +the questions and so vague the answers! Suddenly Rhoda knew that her +beauty had counted greatly with her all her life, had given her her +sense of superiority to the rest of the world. Rhoda squirmed. She +hated this faculty of the Indians and the desert to make her seem +small. She never had felt so with her own kind. Her own kind! Would +she never again know the deference, the gentleness, the loving +tenderness of her own people? Rhoda forgot Molly's wistful question. + +"O Molly!" she cried. "I can't stand this! I want my own people! I +want my own people!" + +Molly's eyes filled with tears. + +"No! No cry, little Sun-streak!" she pleaded, putting an arm around +Rhoda and holding her to her tenderly. "Any peoples that loves you is +your own peoples. Kut-le loves you. Molly loves you. We your peoples +too!" + +"No! No! Never!" sobbed Rhoda. "Molly, if you love me, take me back +to my own kind! You shall never leave me, Molly! I do love you. You +are an Indian but somehow I have a feeling for you I never had for any +one else." + +A sudden light of passionate adoration burned in Molly's eyes, a light +that never was to leave them again when they gazed on Rhoda. But she +shook her head. + +"You ask Molly to give up her peoples but you don't want to give up +yours. You stay with Molly and Kut-le. Learn what desert say 'bout +life, 'bout people. When you _sabe_ what the desert say 'bout that you +_sabe_ almost much as Great Spirit!" + +"Molly, listen! When Kut-le and Alchise go off on one of their hunts +and Cesca goes to sleep, you and I will steal off and hide until night, +and you will show me how to get home again. O Molly, I'll be very good +to you if you will do this for me! Don't you see how foolish Kut-le +is? I can never, never marry him! His ways are not my ways. My ways +are not his! Always I will be white and he Indian. He will get over +this craze for me and want one of his own kind. Molly, listen to your +heart! It must tell you white to the white, Indian to the Indian. +Dear, dear Molly, I want to go home!" + +"No! No! Molly promise Kut-le to keep his white squaw for him. +Injuns they always keep promises. And Molly _sabe_ some day when you +learn more you be heap glad old Molly keep you for Kut-le." + +Rhoda turned away with a sigh at the note of finality in Molly's voice. +Kut-le was climbing the trail toward the camp with a little pile of +provisions. So far he had not failed to procure when needed some sort +of rations--bacon, flour and coffee--though since her abduction Rhoda +had seen no human habitation, Cesca was preparing supper. She was +pounding a piece of meat on a flat stone, muttering to herself when a +piece fell to the ground. Sometimes she wiped the sand from the fallen +bit on her skirt. More often she flung it into the stew-pot unwiped. + +"Cesca!" cried Rhoda, "do keep the burro out of the meat!" The burro +that Kut-le recently had acquired was sniffing at the meat. + +Cesca gave no heed except to murmur, "Burro heap hungry!" + +"I am going to begin to cook my own meals, Molly," said Rhoda. "I am +strong enough now, and Cesca is so dirty!" + +Kut-le entered the camp in time to hear Rhoda's resolution. + +"Will you let me eat with you?" he asked courteously. "I don't enjoy +dirt, myself!" + +Rhoda stared at the young man. The calm effrontery of him, the +cleverness of him, to ask a favor of her! She turned from him to the +distant ranges. She did not realize how much she turned from the +roughness of the camp to the far desert views! Brooding, aloof, how +big the ranges were, how free, how calm! For the first time her +keeping Kut-le in Coventry seemed foolish to her. Of what avail was +her silence, except to increase her own loneliness? Suddenly she +smiled grimly. The game was a good one. Perhaps she could play it as +well as the Indian. + +"If you wish, you may," she said coldly. + +Then she ignored the utter joy and astonishment in the young man's face +and set about roasting the rabbit that Molly had dressed. She tossed +the tortillas as Molly had taught her and baked them over the coals. +She set forth the cans and baskets that formed the camp dinner-set and +served the primitive meal. Kut-le watched the preparations silently. +When the rabbit was cooked the two sat down on either side of the flat +rock that served as a table while the other three squatted about +Cesca's stew-pot near the fire. + +It was the first time that Rhoda and Kut-le had eaten tête-à-tête. +Hitherto Rhoda had taken her food off to a secluded corner and eaten it +alone. There was an intimacy in thus sitting together at the meal +Rhoda had prepared, that both felt. + +"Are you glad you did this for me, Rhoda?" asked Kut-le. + +"I didn't do it for you!" returned Rhoda. "I did it for my own +comfort!" + +Something in her tone narrowed the Indian's eyes. + +"Why should you speak as a queen to a poor devil of a subject? By what +particular mark of superiority are you exempt from work? For a time +you have had the excuse of illness, but you no longer have that. I +should say that making tortillas was better than sitting in sloth while +they are made for you! Do you never have any sense of shame that you +are forever taking and never giving?" + +Rhoda answered angrily. + +"I'm not at all interested in your opinions." + +But the young Apache went on. + +"It makes me tired to hear the white women of your class talk of their +equality to men! You don't do a thing to make you equal. You live off +some one else. You don't even produce children. Huh! No wonder +nature kicks you out with all manner of illness. You are mere cloggers +of the machinery. For heaven's sake, wake up, Rhoda! Except for your +latent possibilities, you aren't in it with Molly!" + +"You have some touchstone, I suppose," replied Rhoda contemptuously, +"by which you are made competent to sit in judgment on mankind?" + +"I sure have!" said Kut-le. "It is that you so live that you die +spiritually richer than you were born. Life is a simple thing, after +all. To keep one's body and soul healthy, to bear children, to give +more than we take. And I believe that in the end it will seem to have +been worth while." + +Rhoda made no answer. Kut-le ate on in silence for a time, then he +said wistfully: + +"Don't you enjoy this meal with me, just a little?" + +Rhoda glanced from Kut-le's naked body to her own torn clothing, then +at the crude meal. + +"I don't enjoy it, no," she answered quietly. + +Something in the quiet sincerity of the voice caused Kut-le to rise +abruptly and order the Indians to break camp. But on the trail that +night he rode close beside her whenever the way permitted and talked to +her of the beauty of the desert. At last, lashed to desperation by her +indifference, he cried: + +"Can't you see that your silence leads to nothing--that it maddens me!" + +"That is what I want it to do," returned Rhoda calmly. "I shall be so +glad if I can make you suffer a touch of what I am enduring!" + +Kut-le did not reply for a moment, then he began slowly: + +"You imagine that I am not suffering? Try to put yourself in my place +for a moment! Can't you see how I love you? Can't you see that my +stealing was the only thing that I could do, loving you so? Wouldn't +you have done the same in my place? If I had been a white man I +wouldn't have been driven to this. I would have had an equal chance +with DeWitt and could have won easily. But I had all the prejudice +against my alien race to fight. There was but one thing to do: to take +you to the naked desert where you would be forced to see life as I see +it, where you would be forced to see me, the man, far from any false +standards of civilization." + +Rhoda would have replied but Kut-le gave her no chance. + +"I know what white conventions demand of me. But, I tell you, my love +is above them. I, not suffer! Rhoda! To see you in pain! To see +your loathing of me! To have you helpless in my arms and yet to keep +you safe! Rhoda! Rhoda! Do you believe I do not suffer?" + +Anger died out of Rhoda. She saw tragedy in the situation, tragedy +that was not hers. She saw herself and Kut-le racially, not +individually. She saw Kut-le suffering all the helpless grief of race +alienation, saw him the victim of passions as great as the desires of +the alien races for the white always must be. Rhoda forgot herself. +She laid a slender hand on Kut-le's. + +"I am sorry," she said softly. "I think I begin to understand. But, +Kut-le, it can never, never be! You are fighting a battle that was +lost when the white and Indian races were created. It can never, never +be, Kut-le." + +The strong brown hand had closed over the small white one instantly. + +"It must be!" he said hoarsely. "I put my whole life on it! It must +be!" + +Rhoda pulled her hand away gently. + +"It never, never can be!" + +"It shall be! Love like this comes but seldom to a human. It is the +most potent thing in the world. It shall--" + +"Kut-le!" Alchise rode forward, pointing to the right. + +Rhoda followed his look. It was nearly dawn. At the right was the +sheer wall of a mesa as smooth and impregnable to her eyes as a wall of +glass. Moving toward them, silent as ghosts in the veil-like dawn, and +cutting them from the mesa, was a group of horsemen. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +TOUCH AND GO + +The John DeWitt who helped break camp after finding Rhoda's scarf was a +different man from the half-crazed person of the three days previous. +He had begun to hope. Somehow that white scarf with Rhoda's perfume +clinging to it was a living thing to him, a living, pulsing promise +that Rhoda was helping him to find her. Now, while Jack and Billy were +feverishly eager, he was cool and clear-headed, leaving the leadership +to Billy still, yet doing more than his share of the work in preparing +for the hard night ahead of them. The horses were well watered, their +own canteens were filled and saturated and food so prepared that it +could be eaten from the saddle. + +"For," said Porter, "when we do hit the little girl's trail, starvation +or thirst or high hell ain't goin' to stop us!" + +It was mid-afternoon when they started down the mountainside. There +was no trail and going was painful but the men moved with the care of +desperation. Once in the cañon they moved slowly along the wall and +some two miles from where the scarf had been found, they discovered a +fault where climbing was possible. It was nearing sundown when they +reached a wide ledge where the way was easy. Porter led the way back +over this to the spot below which fluttered a white paper to mark the +place where the scarf had been found. The ledge deepened here to make +room for a tiny, bubbling spring. Giant boulders were scattered across +the rocky floor. + +The three men dismounted. The ledge gave no trace of human occupancy +and yet Porter and Jack nodded at each other. + +"Here was his camp, all right. Water, and no one could come within a +mile of him without his being seen." + +"He's still covering his traces carefully," said Jack. + +"Not so very," answered Porter. "He's banking a whole lot on our +stupidity, but Miss Tuttle beat him to it with her scarf." + +The three men treated the ledge to a microscopic examination but they +found no trace of previous occupation until Billy knelt and put his +nose against a black outcropping of stone in the wall. Then he gave a +satisfied grunt. + +"Come here, Jack, and take a sniff." + +Jack knelt obediently and cried excitedly: + +"It smells of smoke, by Jove! Don't it, John, old scout!" + +"They knew smoke wouldn't show against a black outcrop, but they didn't +bank on my nose!" said Billy complacently. "Come ahead, boys." + +A short distance from the spring they found a trail which led back up +the mountain, and as dusk came on they followed its dizzy turns until +darkness forced them to halt and wait until the moon rose. By its +light they moved up into a piñon forest. + +"Let's wait here until daylight," suggested Jack. "It's a good place +for a camp." + +"No, it's too near the ledge," objected Billy. "Of course we are +working on faith mostly. I'm no Sherlock Holmes. We'll keep to the +backbone of this range for a while. It's the wildest spot in New +Mexico. Kut-le will avoid the railroad over by the next range." + +So Billy led his little band steadfastly southward. At dawn they met a +Mexican shepherd herding his sheep in a grassy cañon. Jack Newman +called to him eagerly and the Mexican as eagerly answered. A visitor +was worth a month's pay to the lonely fellow. The red of dawn was +painting the fleecy backs of his charges as the tired Americans rode +into his little camp. + +"Seen anything of an Injun running away with a white girl?" asked Billy +without preliminaries. + +The Mexican's jaw dropped. + +"_Sacra Maria_!" he gasped. "Not I! Who is she?" + +"Listen!" broke in Jack. "You be on the watch. An educated Indian has +stolen a young lady who was visiting my wife. I own the Newman ranch. +That Indian Cartwell it was, three days ago." + +John DeWitt interrupted. + +"If you can catch that Indian, if you can give us a clue to him, you +needn't herd sheep any more. Lord, man, speak up! Don't stand there +like a chump!" + +"But, señors!" stammered the poor fellow to whom this sudden torrent of +conversation was as overwhelming as a cloudburst. "But I have not +seen--" + +Billy Porter spoke again. + +"Hold up, boys! We are scaring the poor devil to death. Friend +pastor," he said, "we'll have breakfast here with you, if you don't +object, and tell you our troubles." + +The shepherd glowed with hospitality. + +"Yonder is good water and I have tortillas and frijoles." + +Unshaven and dirty, gaunt from lack of sleep, the three men dismounted +wearily and gladly turned their coffee and bacon over to the herder to +whom the mere odor of either was worth any amount of service. As they +ate, Jack and Billy quizzed the Mexican as to the topography of the +surrounding country. The little herder was a canny chap. + +"He will not try to cover his trail carefully now," he said, swallowing +huge slabs of bacon. "He has a good start. You will have to fool him. +He sleeps by day and travels by night, you will see. You are working +too hard and your horses will be dead. You should have slept last +night. Now you will lose today because you must rest your horses." + +Porter looked at his two companions. Jack was doing fairly well, but +the calm that DeWitt had found with Rhoda's scarf had deserted him. He +was eating scarcely anything and stared impatiently at the fire, +waiting for the start. + +"I'm a blamed double-action jackass, with a peanut for a mind!" +exclaimed Porter. "Taking on myself to lead this hunt when I don't +_sabe_ frijoles! We take a sleep now." + +DeWitt jumped to his feet, expostulating, but Jack and Billy laid a +hand on either of his shoulders and forced him to lie down on his +blanket. There nature claimed her own and in a short time the poor +fellow was in the slumber of exhaustion. + +"Poor old chap!" said Jack as he spread his own blanket. "I can't help +thinking all the time 'What if it were Katherine!' Dear old Rhoda! +Why, Billy, we used to play together as kids! She's slapped my face, +many a time!" + +"Probably you deserved it!" answered Billy in an uncertain voice. "By +the limping piper! I'm glad I ain't her financier. I'm most crazy, as +it is!" + +The sheep herder woke the sleepers at noon. After a bath at the +spring, and dinner, the trio felt as if reborn. They left the herder +with minute directions as to what he was to do in case he heard of +Rhoda. Then they rode out of the cañon into the burning desert. + +And now for several days they lost all clues. They beat up and down +the ranges like tired hunting-dogs, all their efforts fruitless. +Little by little, panic and excitement left them. Even DeWitt realized +that the hunt was to be a long and serious one as Porter told of the +fearful chases the Apaches had led the whites, time and again. He +began to realize that to keep alive in the terrible region through +which the hunt was set he must help the others to conserve their own +and his energies. To this end they ate and slept as regularly as they +could. + +Occasionally they met other parties of searchers, but this was only +when they beat to the eastward toward the ranch, for most of the +searchers were now convinced that Kut-le had made toward Mexico and +they were patrolling the border. But Billy insisted that Kut-le was +making for some eerie that he knew and would ensconce himself there for +months, if need be, till the search was given up. Then and then only +would he make for Mexico. And John DeWitt and Jack had come to agree +with Billy. + +"He'll keep her up in some haunt of his," said Jack, again and again, +"until he's worn her into consenting to marry him. And before that +happens, if I know old Rhoda, we'll find them." + +"He's mine when we do find him, remember that," John DeWitt always said +through his teeth at this point in the discussion. + +It was on the twelfth day of the hunt that the sheep-herder found them. +They were cinching up the packs after the noon rest when he rode up on +a burro. He was dust-coated and both he and the burro were panting. + +"I've seen her! I've seen the señorita!" he shouted as he clambered +stiffly from the burro. + +The three Americans stood rigid. + +"Where? How? When?" came from three heat-cracked mouths. + +The Mexican started to answer, but his throat was raw with alkali dust +and his voice was scarcely audible. DeWitt impatiently thrust a +canteen into the little fellow's hands. + +"Hurry, for heaven's sake!" he urged. + +The Mexican took a deep draught. + +"The night after you left I moved up into the peaks, intending to cross +the range to lower pastures next day. A big storm came up and I made +camp. Then an Indian in a blanket rode up to me and asked me if I was +alone. I _sabed_ him at once. 'But yes, señor,'" I answered, "'except +for the sheep!'" + +"But Miss Tuttle! The señorita!" shouted DeWitt. + +The Mexican glanced at the tired blue eyes, the strained face, +pityingly. + +"She was well," he answered. "Be patient, señor. Then there rode up +another Indian, two squaws and what looked to be a young boy. The +Indian lifted the boy from the saddle so tenderly, señors. And it was +your señorita! She did not look strong, yet I think the Indian is +taking good care of her. They sat by the fire till the storm was over. +The señorita ignored Kut-le as if he had been a dog." + +Porter clinched his teeth at this, while Jack murmured with a gleam of +savage satisfaction in his eyes, "Old Rhoda!" But DeWitt only gnawed +his lip, with his blue eyes on the Mexican. + +"The Indian said I was to say nothing, but the señorita made him let me +tell about you after I said I had seen you. She--she cried with +happiness. They rode away in a little while but I followed as long as +I dared to leave my sheep. They were going north. I think they were +in the railroad range the night you were with me, then doubled back. I +left my sheep the next day with the salt-boy who came up. I tramped +twenty miles to the rancho and got a burro and left word about the +señorita. Then I started on your trail. Everyone I met I told. I +thought that my news was not worth much except that the señor there +would be glad to know that the Indian is tender to his señorita." + +DeWitt turned to Porter and Newman. + +"Friends, perhaps she is being taken care of!" he said. "Perhaps that +devil is trying to keep her health, at least. God! If nothing worse +has befallen her!" + +He stopped and drew his wrist across his forehead. Something like +tears shone in Jack's eyes, and Porter coughed. John turned to the +Mexican and grasped the little fellow's hand. + +"My boy," he said, "you'll never regret this day's work. If you have a +señorita you know what you have done for me!" + +The Mexican looked up into DeWitt's face seriously. + +"I have one. She has a dimple in her chin." + +John turned abruptly and stood staring into the desert while tears +seared his eyes. Billy hastily unpacked and gave Carlos and his burro +the best that the outfit afforded. + +"Can the salt-boy stay on with the sheep while you come with us?" asked +John DeWitt. "I'll pay your boss for the whole flock if anything goes +wrong." He wanted the keen wit of the herder on the hunt. + +The Mexican nodded eagerly. + +"I'll stay!" + +Shortly the four were riding northward across the desert. They were in +fairly good shape for a hard tide. Two days before, they had stopped +at Squaw Spring ranch and re-outfitted. With proper care of the horses +they were good for three weeks away from supplies. And for two weeks +now they scoured the desert, meeting scarcely a human, finding none of +the traces that Rhoda was so painfully dropping along her course. The +hugeness, the cruelty of the region drove the hopelessness of their +mission more and more deeply into DeWitt's brain. It seemed impossible +except by the merest chance to find trace of another human in a waste +so vast. It seemed to him that it was not skill but the gambler's +instinct for luck that guided Carlos and Billy. + +They rode through open desert country one afternoon, the only mountains +discernible being a far purple haze along the horizon. For hours the +little cavalcade had moved without speech. Then to the north, Porter +discerned a dot moving toward them. Gradually under their eager eyes +the dot grew into a man who staggered as he walked. When he observed +the horsemen coming toward him he sat down and waited. + +"Jim Provenso! By the limping Piper!" cried Billy. "Thought you was +in Silver City." + +Jim was beyond useless speech. He caught the canteen which Jack swung +to him and drank deeply. Then he said hoarsely: + +"I almost got away with the Tuttle girl last week!" + +Every man left his saddle as if at a word of command. Jim took another +drink. + +"If I catch that Injun alone I'll cut his throat!" + +"Was Miss Tuttle bad off?" gasped Porter. + +"She? Naw; she looked fine. He sassed me, though, as I won't take it +from any man!" + +"Tell us what happened, for heaven's sake," cried DeWitt, eying +Provenso disgustedly. + +Jim told his story in detail. + +"That Injun Alkus," he ended, "he tied a rag over my eyes, tied my +hands up and, say, he lost me for fair! He took all day to it. At +night he tied me up to a tree and I stood there all night before I got +my hands loose. I was sure lost, now, I can tell you! I struck a +cowman up on the range the next night. He give me some grub and a +canteen and I made out pretty good till yesterday, working south all +the time. Then I got crazy with thirst and threw my canteen away. +Found a spring last night again, but I'm about all in." + +"How did Miss Tuttle seem?" asked John with curious quietness. It +seemed to him the strangest thing of all that first the Mexican, then +this coarse, tramp-like fellow, should have talked to Rhoda while he +could only wander wildly through the Hades of the desert without a +trace of her camp to solace him. + +"Say, she was looking good! She thanked me and told me to tell you all +to hurry." + +They gave to Provenso a burro whose pack was nearly empty, what food +and water they could spare, and he left them. They started on +dejectedly. Provenso had told them where Kut-le had camped ten days +before. + +They could only find that spot and attempt to pick up the trail from +there. + +"Just the same," said Billy, "it's just as well he didn't get away with +Miss Rhoda. He's a tough pill, that Provenso. She'd better be with +the Injun than him!" + +"Provenso must be a bad lot," said Jack. + +"He is!" replied Billy grimly. + +The camp was made that night near a smooth-faced mesa. Before dawn +they had eaten breakfast and were mounting, when Carlos gave a low +whistle. Every ear was strained. On the exquisite stillness of the +dawn sounded a woman's voice which a man's voice answered. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +A LONG TRAIL + +Rhoda gave a cry of joy. From the horsemen rose a sudden shout. + +"Spread! Spread! There they are!" + +"Don't shoot!" It was Porter's voice, shrill and high with excitement. +"That's her, the boy there! Rhoda! Rhoda! We're coming!" + +With a quick responsive cry, Rhoda struck her horse. With the blow, +Kut-le leaned from his own horse and seized her bridle, turning her +horse with his own away from the mesa and to the left. The other +Indians followed and with hoarse cries of exultation the rescuers took +up the pursuit. + +Rhoda looked back. + +"Shoot!" she screamed. "Shoot!" + +Before the second scream had left her lips she was lifted bodily from +the saddle to Kut-le's arms where, understanding his device, she +struggled like a mad woman. But she only wasted her strength. Without +a glance at her, Kut-le turned his pony almost in its tracks and made +for the mesa. + +"Cut him off! He'll get away from us!" It was DeWitt's voice, and +"John! John DeWitt!" Rhoda cried. + +But the young Indian had gaged his distance well. He brought his horse +to its haunches and with Rhoda in his arms was running into a fissure +seemingly too narrow for human to enter, while the pursuers were still +a hundred yards away. + +"Hold 'em, Alchise!" he said briefly as he ran. + +Alchise, with rifle cocked, stopped by the opening. The fissure +widened immediately into a narrow passageway. High, high above them +rolled a strip of pink and blue morning sky. Before them was a +seemingly interminable crevice along which the squaws scuttled. As +Rhoda watched them they disappeared around a sudden curve. When Kut-le +reached this point with his burden, the squaws were climbing like +monkeys up the wall which here gave back, roughly, ending the fissure +in a rude chimney which it seemed to Rhoda only a bear or an Apache +could have climbed. Kut-le set Rhoda on her feet. She looked up into +his face mockingly. To her mind she was as good as rescued. But the +young Apache seemed in no wise hurried or excited. + +"Our old friends seem to want something!" he commented with his boyish +grin. + +"What are you going to do now?" asked Rhoda, with calm equal to the +Apache's. + +"I can't carry you up this wall," suggested Kut-le. + +"Very well!" returned Rhoda pleasantly. "I am quite willing that you +should leave me here." + +Kut-le's eyes glittered. + +"Rhoda, you must climb this wall with me!" + +"I won't!" replied Rhoda laconically. + +"Then I shall force you to," said the Indian, shifting his rifle and +prodding Rhoda ever so gently with the barrel. + +Rhoda gave Kut-le a look of scorn that he was not soon to forget and +slowly mounted the first broken ledge. The wall was composed of a +series of jutting rocks and of ledges that barely offered hand or foot +hold. Up and up and up! Kut-le was now beside her, now above her, now +lifting, now pulling. Half-way to the top, Rhoda stopped, dizzy and +afraid. Kneeling on the ledge above, with one hand thrust down to lift +her, Kut-le looked into her eyes almost pleadingly. That handsome face +so close to hers affected Rhoda strangely. + +"Don't be afraid," whispered Kut-le. "Nothing can happen to you while +I am taking care of you." + +Rhoda looked into his eyes proudly. + +"I am not afraid," she said, reaching for a fresh handhold with +trembling fingers. + +The jutting rocks were sharp. Kut-le from his ledge saw Rhoda look at +her hold then turn white. Her nails were torn to the quick and +bleeding. She swayed with only an atom of gravity lacking to send her +to death below. Instantly Kut-le was back beside her, his sinewy hand +between her shoulders, supporting and lifting her to the ledge above. +As they neared the top the broken surface became prickly with cactus +and Rhoda winced with misery as the thorns pierced and tore her flesh. +But finally, in what actually had been an incredibly short time, they +emerged on the plateau, where the two squaws huddled high above the +pursuers. + +"They think they have you now!" said Kut-le, as Rhoda dropped panting +to the ground. "We must move out of here before they investigate the +mesa top." + +He allowed, however, a few minutes' breathing spell for Rhoda. She sat +quietly, though her gray eyes were brilliant with excitement. It +seemed to her but a matter of a few hours now when she would be with +her own. Yet she could not but notice with that curious observance of +detail which comes at moments of intensest excitement the varied colors +of the distances that opened before her. The great mesa on which she +sat was a mighty peninsula of chalcedony that stretched into the +desert. It was patched by rocks of lavender, of yellow, and of green, +and belled over by the intensity of the morning blue above. + +"Come!" said Kut-le. "There will be little rest for us today." + +Rhoda rose, took a few staggering steps, then sat down. + +"I can't start yet," she said. "I'm too worn out." + +Kut-le's expression was amused while it was impatient. + +"I suppose you may be sleepy, but I think you can walk a little way. +Hurry, Rhoda! Hurry!" + +Rhoda sat staring calmly into the palpitating blue above. + +"I hate to have you carry me," she said after a moment, "but I don't +feel at all like walking!" + +Her tired face was irresistibly lovely as she looked up at the Apache, +but by an effort he remained obdurate. + +"You must walk as long as you can," he insisted. "We have got to +hustle today!" + +"I really don't feel like hustling!" sighed Rhoda. + +"Rhoda!" cried Kut-le impatiently, "get up and walk after me! Cesca, +see that the white squaw keeps moving!" and he handed his rifle to the +brown hag who took it with evident pleasure. Molly ran forward as if +to protest but at a look from Kut-le she dropped back. + +Rhoda rose slowly, with her lower lip caught between her teeth. She +followed silently after Kut-le, Cesca and the rifle at her shoulder and +Molly in the rear. It seemed to the girl that of all the strange +scenes through which the past weeks had carried her this was of all the +most unreal. All about her was a world of vivid rock heaps so +intensely colored that she doubted her vision. Away to the south lay +the boundless floor of the desert, a purple and gold infinity that +rolled into the horizon. Far to the north mountains were faintly blue +in the yellow sunlight. + +Kut-le headed straight for the mountains. His pace was swift and +unrelenting. Almost immediately Rhoda felt the debilitating effects of +overheat. The sun, now sailing high, burned through her flannel shirt +until her flesh was blistered beneath it. The light on the brilliantly +colored rocks made her eyes blink with pain. Before long she was +parched with thirst and faint with hunger. This was her first +experience in tramping for any distance under the desert sun. But +Kut-le kept the pace long after the two squaws were half leading, half +carrying the girl. + +Rhoda had long since learned the uselessness of protesting. She kept +on until the way danced in reeling colors before her eyes. Then +without a sound she dropped in the scant shadow of a rock. At the cry +from Molly, Kut-le turned, and after one glance at Rhoda's white face +and limp figure he knelt in the sand and lifted the drooping, yellow +head. Molly unslung her canteen and forced a few drops of water +between Rhoda's lips. Then she tenderly chafed the small hands and the +delicate throat and Rhoda opened her eyes. Immediately Kut-le lifted +her in his arms and the flight was resumed. + +At short intervals during the morning, Rhoda walked, but for the most +part Kut-le packed her as dispassionately as if she had been a lame +puppy. He held her across his broad chest as if her fragile weight +were nothing. Lying so, Rhoda watched the merciless landscape or the +brown squaws jogging at Kut-le's heels. Surely, she thought, the +ancient mesa never had seen a stranger procession or known of a wilder +mission. She looked up into Kut-le's face and wondered as she stared +at his bare head how his eyes could look so steadily into the +sun-drenched landscape. + +As she lay, the elation of the early morning left her. More and more +surely the conviction came to her that the Apache's boast was true; +that no white could catch him on his own ground. Dizzy and ill from +the heat, she closed her eyes and lay without hope or coherent thought. + +At noon they stopped for a short time that Rhoda might eat. Their +resting-place was in the shadow of a beetling, weather-beaten rock that +still bore traces of hieroglyphic carvings. There were broken bits of +clay pots among the tufts of cactus. Rhoda stared at them languidly +and wondered what the forgotten vessels could have contained in a +region so barren of life or hope. + +Kut-le strolled over to a cat's-claw bush at whose base lay a tangle of +dead leaves. With a bit of stick, he scattered this litter, struck the +ground several good blows and returned with a string of fat desert +mice. With infinite care Cesca kindled a fire so tiny, so clear, that +scarcely a wisp of smoke escaped into the quivering air. Into this she +flung the eviscerated mice and in an instant the tiny things were a +delicate brown. The aroma was pleasant but Rhoda turned whiter still +when Molly brought her the fattest of the mice. + +"Take it away!" she whispered. "Take it away!" + +Molly looked at the girl in stupid surprise. + +"You must eat, Rhoda girl!" said Kut-le. + +Rhoda made no reply but leaned limply against the ancient rock, her +golden hair touching the crude drawings of long ago. She was a very +different Rhoda from the eager girl of the early morning. She ignored +every effort Kut-le made to tempt her to eat. Her tired gaze wandered +to her hands, still blood-grimed, and her cleft chin quivered. Kut-le +saw the expressive little look. + +"I'm sorry," he said simply. + +Rhoda looked up at him. + +"I don't believe you," she returned calmly. + +The Indian's jaw stiffened. + +"Come, we'll start now." + +The afternoon was like the morning, except that the sun was more +burning overhead, the way more scorching underfoot; except that the +course became more broken, the clambering heavier, the drops more +wracking. All the afternoon, Kut-le carried Rhoda. At last the sun +sank below the mesa and the day was ended. + +The place of their camping seemed to Rhoda damp and cold. It was close +beside a spring that gave out a faint, miasmic odor. The bitter water +was grateful, however. Again more mice were seered over before the +fire was stamped out hastily. This time Rhoda forced herself to eat. +Then she drank deeply of the bitter water and lay down on the cold +ground. Despite the fact that she was shivering with the cold, she +fell asleep at once. Toward midnight she awoke and moving close to +Molly's broad back for warmth, she looked up into the sky. For the +first time the great southern stars seemed near and kindly to her and +before she fell asleep again she wondered why. + +At earliest peep of dawn the squaws were astir waiting for Kut-le, who +shortly staggered into camp with a load of meat on his shoulder. +Alchise was with him. + +"Mule meat!" said Kut-le to Rhoda. "I went to find horses but there +was nothing but an old lame mule, I brought him back this way!" + +"Heavens!" ejaculated Rhoda. + +The squaws worked busily, cutting the meat into strips which they hung +over their shoulders to sun dry during the day. Alchise cleansed a +length of mule's intestine in the spring, to serve as a canteen. Rhoda +gave small heed to these preparations. She was too ill and feverish +even to be disgusted by them. She refused to eat but drank constantly +from the spring. When at Kut-le's command she took up the march with +the others the young man eyed her anxiously. He slung Molly's canteen +from his own to Alchise's shoulder and felt Rhoda's pulse. + +"This water was bad for you," he said. "But it was the only spring +within miles. Perhaps you will throw off the effects of it when we get +into the heat of the sun." + +Rhoda made no reply but staggered miserably after Molly. The spring +lay in a pocket between mountains and mesa. The mountains seemed +cruelly high to Rhoda as she looked at them and thought of toiling +across them. With head sunk on her breast and feverishly twitching +hands she followed for half an hour. Then Kut-le turned. + +"I'm going to carry you, Rhoda," he said. + +The girl shrank away from him. + +"You and Molly and all of them think I'm just a parasite," she +muttered. "You don't have to do anything for me! Just let me drop +anywhere and die!" + +Kut-le looked at her strangely. Without comment, he picked her up. +There was a sternly tender look on his face that never had been there +before. He did not carry her dispassionately today, but very gently. +Something in his manner pierced through Rhoda's half delirium and she +looked up at him with a faint replica of her old lovely smile that +Kut-le had not seen since he had stolen her. He trembled at its beauty +and started forward at a tremendous pace. + +"I'll get you to good water by noon," he said. + +At noon they were well up in the mountains by a clear spring fringed +with aspens. Watercress grew below it, and high above it were pines +and junipers. It was a spot of surpassing loveliness, but Rhoda, +tossing and panting, could not know it, Kut-le laid his burden on the +ground and Molly drew off her tattered petticoat to lay beneath the +feverish head. The young Apache stood looking down at the little +figure, so graceful in its boyish abandonment of gesture, so pitiful in +its broken unconsciousness. Molly bathed the burning face and hands in +the pure cold water, muttering tender Apache phrases. Kut-le +constantly interrupted her to change the girl's position. For an hour +or so he waited for the fever to turn. By three o'clock there was no +change for the better and he left Rhoda's side to pace back and forth +by the spring in anxious thought. + +At last he came to a conclusion and with stern set face he issued a few +short orders to his companions. The canteens were refilled. Kut-le +lifted Rhoda and the trail was taken to the west. Alchise would have +relieved him of his burden, willingly, but Kut-le would not listen to +it. Molly trotted anxiously by the young Apache's side, constantly +moistening the girl's lips with water. + +Rhoda was quite delirious now. She murmured and sometimes sobbed, +trying to free herself from Kut-le's arms. + +"I'm not sick!" she said, looking up into the Indian's face with +unseeing eyes. "Don't let him see that I am sick!" + +"No! No! Dear one!" answered Kut-le. + +"Don't let him see I'm sick!" she sobbed. "He hurts me so!" + +"No! No!" exclaimed Kut-le huskily. "Molly, give her a little more +water!" + +"Molly!" panted Rhoda, "you tell him how hard I worked--how I earned my +way a little! And don't let him do anything for me!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE TURN IN THE TRAIL + +The little group, trudging the long difficult trail along the mountain +was a rich study in degrees: Rhoda, the fragile Caucasian, a product of +centuries of civilization; and Kut-le, the Indian, with the keenness, +the ferocious courage, the cunning of the Indian leavened inextricably +with the thousand softening influences of a score of years' contact +with civilization; then Cesca, the lean and stoical product of an +ancient and terrible savagery; and Alchise, her mate. Finally +Molly--squat, dirty Molly--the stupid, squalid aborigine, as distinct +from Cesca's type as is the brown snail from the stinging wasp. + +Alchise, striding after his chief, was smitten with a sudden idea. +After ruminating on it for some time, he communicated it to his squaw. +Cesca shook her head with a grunt of disapproval. Alchise insisted and +the squaw looked at Kut-le cunningly. + +"_Quién sabe_?" she said at last. + +At this Alchise hurried forward and touched Kut-le on the shoulder. + +"Take 'em squaw to Reservation. Medicine dance. Squaw heap sick. +_Sabe_?" + +"Reservation's too far away," replied Kut-le, shifting Rhoda's head to +lie more easily on his arm. "I'm making for Chira." + +Alchise shook his head vigorously. + +"Too many mens! We go Reservation. Alchise help carry sick squaw." + +"Nope! You're way off, Alchise. I'm going where I can get some white +man's medicine the quickest. I'm not so afraid of getting caught as I +am of her getting a bad run of fever. I have friends at Chira." + +Alchise fell back, muttering disappointment. White man's medicine was +no good. He cared little about Rhoda but he adored Kut-le. It was +necessary therefore that the white squaw be saved, since his chief +evidently was quite mad about her. All the rest of the day Alchise was +very thoughtful. Late at night the next halt was made. High up in the +mountain on a sheltered ledge Kut-le laid down his burden. + +"Keep her quiet till I get back," he said, and disappeared. + +Rhoda was in a stupor and lay quietly unconscious with the stars +blinking down on her, a limp dark heap against the mountain wall. The +three Indians munched mule meat, then Molly curled herself on the +ground and in three minutes was snoring. Alchise stood erect and still +on the ledge for perhaps ten minutes after Kut-le's departure. Then he +touched Cesca on the shoulder, lifted Rhoda in his arms and, followed +by Cesca, left the sleeping Molly alone on the ledge. + +Swiftly, silently, Alchise strode up the mountainside, Rhoda making +neither sound nor motion. For hours, with wonderful endurance the two +Indians held the pace. They moved up the mountain to the summit, which +they crossed, then dropped rapidly downward. Just at dawn Alchise +stopped at a gray _campos_ under some pines and called. A voice from +the hut answered him. The canvas flap was put back and an old Indian +buck appeared, followed by several squaws and young bucks, yawning and +staring. + +Alchise laid Rhoda on the ground while he spoke rapidly to the Indian. +The old man protested at first but on the repeated use of Kut-le's name +he finally nodded and Alchise carried Rhoda into the _campos_. A squaw +kindled a fire which, blazing up brightly, showed a huge, dark room, +canvas-roofed and dirt-floored, quite bare except for the soiled +blankets on the floor. + +Rhoda was laid in the center of the hut. The old buck knelt beside +her. He was very old indeed. His time-ravaged features were lean and +ascetic. His clay-matted hair was streaked with white; his black eyes +were deep-sunk and his temples were hollow. But there was a fine sort +of dignity about the old medicine-man, despite his squalor. He gazed +on Rhoda in silence for some time. Alchise and Cesca sat on the floor, +and little by little they were joined by a dozen other Indians who +formed a circle about the girl. The firelight flickered on the dark, +intent faces and on Rhoda's delicate beauty as she lay passing rapidly +from stupor to delirium. + +Suddenly the old man raised his lean hand, shaking a gourd filled with +pebbles, and began softly to chant. Instantly the other Indians joined +him and the _campos_ was filled with the rhythm of a weird song. Rhoda +tossed her arms and began to cough a little from the smoke. The chant +quickened. It was but the mechanical repetition of two notes falling +always from high to low. Yet it had an indescribable effect of +melancholy, this aboriginal song. It was as hopeless and melancholy as +all of nature's chants: the wail of the wind, the sob of the rain, the +beat of the waves. + +Rhoda sat erect, her eyes wild and wide. The old buck, without ceasing +his song, attempted to thrust her back with one lean brown claw, but +Rhoda struck him feebly. + +"Go away!" she cried. "Be quiet! You hurt my head! Don't make that +dreadful noise!" + +The chant quickened. The medicine-man now rocked back and forth on his +knees, accenting the throb of the song by beating his bare feet on the +earth. He seemed by some strange suppleness to flatten his instep +paddle-wise and to bring the entire leg from toe to knee at one blow +against the ground. Never did his glowing old eyes leave Rhoda's face. + +The girl, thrown into misery and excitement by the insistence of the +chant, began to wring her hands. The words said nothing to her but the +rhythmic repetition of the notes told her a story as old as life +itself: that life passes swifter than a weaver's shuttle, and without +hope; that our days are as grass and as the clouds that are consumed +and are no more; that the soul sinks to the land of darkness and of the +shadow of death. Rhoda struggled, with horror in her eyes, to rise; +but the old man with a hand on her shoulder forced her back on the +blanket. + +"Oh, what is it!" wailed Rhoda, clutching at the mass of yellow-brown +hair about her face. "Where am I? What are you doing? Have I died? +Where is Kut-le? Kut-le!" she screamed. "Kut-le!" + +The medicine-man held her to the blanket and for a time she sat +quiescent. Then as the Indian lifted his hand from her shoulder the +bewilderment of her gray eyes changed to the wildness of delirium. She +looked toward the doorway where the dawn light made but little headway +against the dark interior. With one blue-veined hand on her panting +breast she slowly, stealthily gathered herself together, and with +unbelievable swiftness she sprang for the square of dawn light. She +leaped almost into the arms of a young buck who sat near the door. He +bore her back to her place while the chant continued without +interruption. + +Exhausted, Rhoda lay listening to the song. Gradually it began to +exert its hypnotic influence over her. Its sense of melancholy +enveloped her drug-like. She lay prone, the tears coursing down her +cheeks, her twitching hands turned upward beside her. Slowly she +floated outward upon a dark sea whose waves beat a ceaseless requiem of +anguish on her ears. It seemed to her that she was enduring all the +sorrows of the ages; that she was brain-tortured by the death agonies +of all humanity; that all the uselessness, all the meaninglessness, all +the utter weariness of the death-ridden world pressed upon her, +suffocating her, forcing her to stillness, slowing the beating of her +heart, the intake of her breath. Slowly her white lids closed, yet +with one last conscious cry for life: + +"Kut-le!" she wailed. "Kut-le!" + +A quick shadow filled the doorway. + +"Here, Rhoda! Here!" + +Kut-le bounded into the room, upsetting the medicine-man, and lifted +Rhoda in his arms. She clung to him wildly. + +"Take me away, Kut-le! Take me away!" + +He soothed her with great tenderness. + +"Dear one!" he murmured. "Dear one!" and she closed her eyes quietly. + +During this time the Indians sat silent and watchful. Kut-le turned to +Alchise. + +"You cursed fool!" he said. + +"She get well now," replied Alchise anxiously. "Alchise save her for +you. Molly tell you where come." + +For a moment Kut-le stared at Alchise; then, as if realizing the +futility of speech, "Come!" he said, and ignoring the other Indians, he +strode from the _campos_. Alchise and Cesca followed him, and outside +the anxious Molly seized Rhoda's limp hand with a little cry of joy. +Kut-le led the way to a quiet spot among the pines. Here he laid Rhoda +on a sheepskin and covered her with a tattered blanket, the spoils of +his previous night's trip. + +About the middle of the morning Rhoda opened her eyes. As she stirred, +Kut-le came to her. + +"I've had such horrible dreams, Kut-le. You won't go and leave me to +the Indians again?" + +This appeal from Rhoda in her weakness almost overcame Kut-le but he +only smoothed her tangled hair and answered: + +"No, dear one!" + +"Where are we now?" she asked feebly. + +Kut-le smiled. + +"In the Rockies." + +"I think I am very sick," continued Rhoda. "Do you think we can stay +quiet in one place today?" + +Kut-le shook his head. + +"I am going to get you to some quinine as quick as I can. There is +some about twenty-four hours from here." + +Rhoda's eyes widened. + +"Shall I be with white people?" + +"Don't bother. You'll have good care." + +The light faded from Rhoda's eyes. + +"It's hard for me, isn't it?" she said, as if appealing to the college +man of the ranch. + +"Rhoda! Rhoda!" whispered Kut-le, "your suffering kills me! But I +must have you, I must!" + +Rhoda moved her head impatiently, as if the Indian's tense, handsome +face annoyed her. She refused food but drank deeply of the tepid water +and shortly they were again on the trail. + +For several hours Rhoda lay in Kut-le's arms, weak and ill but with +lucid mind. They were making their way up a long cañon. It was very +narrow. Rhoda could see the individual leaves of the aspens on the +opposite wall as they moved close in the shadow of the other. The +floor, watered by a clear brook, was level and green. On either side +the walls were murmurous with delicately quivering aspens and sighing +pines. + +Suddenly Cesca gave a grunt of warning. Far down the valley a +sheep-herder was approaching with his flocks. Kut-le turned to the +right and Alchise sprang to his aid. In the shelter of the trees, +Kut-le twisted a handkerchief across Rhoda's mouth; and in reply to her +outraged eyes, he said: + +"I don't mind single visitors as a rule but I haven't time to fuss with +one now." + +Together the two men carried Rhoda up the cañon-side. They lifted her +from trunk to trunk, now a root-hold, now a jutting bit of rock, till +far up the sheer wall. Rhoda lay at last on a little ledge heaped with +pine-needles. By the time the Indians were settled on the rock Rhoda +was delirious again. The fever had returned twofold and Molly's entire +efforts were toward keeping the tossing form on the ledge. + +Slowly, very slowly, the herder, a sturdy ragged Mexican, moved up the +cañon, pausing now and again to scratch his head. He was whistling _La +Paloma_. The Indians' black eyes did not leave him and after his +flute-like notes had melted into the distance they still crouched in +cramped stillness on the ledge. + +But shortly Kut-le freed Rhoda's mouth, gave Alchise a swift look, and +with infinite care the descent was begun. Kut-le did not like +traveling in the daylight, for many reasons. Carefully, swiftly they +moved up the cañon, always hugging the wall. Late in the afternoon +they emerged on an open mesa. All the wretched day Rhoda had traveled +in a fearsome world of her own, peopled with uncanny figures, alight +with a glare that seared her eyes, held in a vice that gripped her +until she screamed with restless pain. The song that the shepherd had +whistled tortured her tired brain. + + "The day that I left my home for the rolling sea, + I said, 'Mother dear, O pray to thy God for me!' + But e'er we set sail I went a fond leave to take--" + +Over and over she sang the three lines, ending each time with a +frightened stare up into Kut-le's face. + +"Whom did I say good-by to? Whom? But they don't care!" + +Then again the tired voice: + + "The day that I left my home for the rolling sea--" + +Night came and the weary, weary crossing of a craggy, heavily wooded +mountain. Kut-le did not relinquish his burden. He seemed not to tire +of the weight of the slender body that lay now in helpless stupor. If +the squaws or Alchise felt fatigue or impatience as Kut-le held them to +a pace on the tortuous trail that would nearly have exhausted a +Caucasian athlete, they gave no sign. All the endless night Kut-le led +the way under the midnight blackness of the piñon or the violet light +of the stars, until the lifting light of the dawn found them across the +ranges and standing at the edge of a little river. + +In the dim light there lifted a terraced adobe building with ladders +faintly outlined on the terraces. There was no sound save the barking +of a dog and the ripple of the river. With a muttered admonition, +Kut-le left Rhoda to the others and climbed one of the ladders. He +returned with a blanketed figure that gazed on Rhoda non-committally. +At a sign, Kut-le lifted Rhoda, and the little group moved noiselessly +toward the dwelling, clambered up a ladder, and disappeared. + +Rhoda opened her eyes with a sense of physical comfort that confused +her. She was lying on the floor of a long, gray-walled room. In one +corner was a tiny adobe fire-place from which a tinier fire threw a jet +of flame color on the Navajo that lay before the hearth. Along the +walls were benches with splendid Navajos rolled cushion-wise upon them. +Above the benches hung several rifles with cougarskin quivers beneath +them. A couple of cheap framed mirrors were hung with silver necklaces +of beautiful workmanship. In a corner a table was set with heavy but +shining china dishes. + +Rhoda stared with increasing wonder. She was very weak and spent but +her head was clear. She lifted her arms and looked at them. She was +wearing a loose-fitting gray garment of a strange weave. She fingered +it, more and more puzzled. + +"You wake now?" asked a low voice. + +Coming softly down the room was an Indian woman of comely face and +strange garb. Over a soft shirt of cut and weave such as Rhoda had on, +she wore a dark overdress caught at one shoulder and reaching only to +the knees. A many-colored girdle confined the dress at the waist. Her +legs and feet were covered with high, loose moccasins. Her black hair +hung free on her shoulders. + +"You been much sick," the woman went on, "much sick," stooping to +straighten Rhoda's blanket. + +"Where am I?" asked Rhoda. + +"At Chira. You eat breakfast?" + +Rhoda caught the woman's hand. + +"Who are you?" she asked. "You have been very good to me." + +"Me Marie," replied the woman. + +"Where are Kut-le and the others?" + +"Kut-le here. Others in mountain. You much sick, three days." + +Rhoda sighed. Would this kaleidoscope of misery never end! + +"I am very tired of it all," she said. "I think it would have been +kinder if you had let me die. Will you help me to get back to my white +friends?" + +Marie shook her head. + +"Kut-le friend. We take care Kut-le's squaw." + +Rhoda turned wearily on her side. + +"Go away and let me sleep," she said. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE CROSSING TRAILS + +As Kut-le, with Rhoda in his arms, disappeared into the mesa fissure, +John DeWitt threw himself from his horse and was at the opening before +the others had more than brought their horses to their haunches. + +He was met by Alchise's rifle, with Alchise entirely hidden from view. +For a moment the four men stood panting and speechless. The encounter +had been so sudden, so swift that they could not believe their senses. +Then Billy Porter uttered an oath that reverberated from the rocky wall. + +"They will get to the top!" he cried. "Jack, you and DeWitt get up +there! Carlos and I will hold this!" + +The two men mounted immediately and galloped along the mesa wall, +looking for an ascent. Neither of them spoke but both were breathing +hard, and through his blistered skin DeWitt's cheeks glowed feverishly. +For a mile up and down from the fissure the wall was a blank, except +for a single wide split which did not come within fifty feet of the +ground. After over half an hour of frantic search, DeWitt found, +nearly three miles from the fissure, a rough spot where the wall gave +back in a few narrow crumbling ledges. + +"We'll have to leave the horses," he said, "and try that." + +Jack nodded tensely. They dismounted, pulled the reins over the +horses' heads and started up the wall, John leading, carefully. One +bitter lesson the desert was teaching him: haste in the hot country +spells ruin! So, though Rhoda's voice still rang in his ears, though +the sight of the slender boyish figure struggling in Kut-le's arms +still ravished his eyes, he worked carefully. + +The ascent was all but impossible. The few jutting ledges were so +narrow that foothold was precarious, so far apart that only the slight +backward slant of the wall made it possible for them to flatten their +bodies against the crumbling brown rock and thus keep from falling. +They toiled desperately, silently. After an hour of utmost effort, +they reached the top, and with an exclamation of exultation started in +the direction of the fissure. But their exultation was short-lived. +The great split that stopped fifty feet from the desert floor cut them +off from the main mesa. They ran hastily along its edge but at no +point was it to be crossed. Shortly DeWitt left Jack to follow it back +and he hastened to the mesa front where he made a perilous descent and +returned with the horses to Porter. + +That gentleman forced John to eat some breakfast while Carlos rode +hastily to scour the mesa front to the west. Porter and the Mexican +had captured two of the horses and the burro that the Indians had left. +The other horses had run out into the desert back to the last spring +they had camped at, Porter said. To DeWitt's great disappointment, the +horses carried only blankets, and the burro was loaded with bacon and +flour. There were none of Rhoda's personal belongings. The animals +were in good condition, however, and the men annexed them to their +outfit gladly. + +John was torn betwixt hope and bitter disappointment. + +"Do you think they could climb out of the fissure?" he asked half a +dozen times, then without waiting for an answer, "Did you see her face, +Billy? I had just a glimpse! Didn't she look well! Just that one +glance has put new life in me! I know we will get her! Even this +cursed desert isn't wide enough to keep me from her! God help that +Indian when I get him!" + +Porter kept his eyes on Alchise's rifle which had never wavered in the +past three hours. + +"I've a notion to shoot the barrel off that thing just for luck!" he +growled. "John, sit down! You will need all the strength you've got +and then some before you catch that Injun!" + +"What are you going to do?" asked John, seating himself in the sand +some few feet from the fissure. + +"The big probability is," said Billy, "that they are in the crack. It +would be just about impossible for a girl to climb out of one of 'em. +If they have got out, though, it's just a matter of finding their trail +again. We'll have 'em! It's just this chance crack that saved 'em. +If you're rested, ride along the west wall and try for the top again." + +For the next five hours, Porter guarded the mesa front alone. It was +nearing six o'clock when Jack returned, exhausted and disappointed. He +had followed the great split back until the mesa top became so cut and +striated with mighty fissures that progress was impossible. + +"Isn't it the devil's own luck," he growled to Porter as he ate, "that +we should have let him get into that one crack! What next! Unless +they are still in there, we've lost them and are just losing time +squatting here." + +As he spoke, there was a sound of voices in the fissure. The two men +cocked their rifles as John and Carlos emerged from the opening. John +was scowling and breathless. + +"Lost 'em as usual, by our infernal stupidity," he panted, while Carlos +dropped his empty canteen and lifted Porter's to his lips. "I rode +round to the south of the mesa. There are a couple of possible ascents +there. I found Carlos making one. We followed a dozen fissures before +we located this one. We got into it about a mile back from here. +Here's a basket we found at the bottom in a burlap bag." + +He tossed one of Cesca's pitch baskets at Billy, then threw himself in +the sand. + +"They were down off the mesa, I bet," he went on, "before we fools +found the way up, and it was easy for the chap they left guarding the +entrance to avoid us. The mesa is covered with big rocks." + +"He got away within the last half-hour then," said Billy, "for I didn't +stir from this spot until the burro started to eat the grub pack, and I +naturally had to wrestle with him. And no human being could a got out +the front even then." + +"God! What a country!" groaned DeWitt. "The Indians outwit us at +every step!" + +"Well," Jack answered dejectedly, "tell us what we could have done +differently." + +"I'm not blaming any one," replied John. + +Billy Porter rose briskly. + +"You boys quit your kicking. The scent is still warm. You fellows get +a couple of hours' sleep while I take the horses back to Coyote Hole +for water. By daylight we got to be on the south side of the mesa to +pick up the trail." + +Billy's businesslike manner heartened Jack and John DeWitt. They +turned in beside Carlos, who already was sleeping. + +Dawn found them examining the ascents on the south side of the mesa but +they found no traces and as the sun came well up they followed the only +possible way toward the mountains. At noon they found a low spring in +a pocket between mesa and mountain. Kut-le was growing either defiant +or careless, for he had left a heap of ashes and a pile of half-eaten +desert mice. Very much cheered they allowed the horses a fair rest. +They found no further traces of camp or trail that day and made camp +that night in the open desert. + +At dawn they were crossing a heavily wooded mountain. The sun had not +yet risen when they heard a sound of singing. + +"What's that?" asked DeWitt sharply, as the four pulled up their horses. + +"A medicine cry," answered Jack. "We must be near some medicine-man's +_campos_." + +"Come on," cried DeWitt, "we'll quiz them!" + +"Hold up, you chump!" exclaimed Billy. "If you rush in on a cry that +way you are apt not to come back again. You've got to go at 'em +careful. Let me do the talking." + +They rode toward the sound of the chant and shortly a dingy _campos_ +came into view. An Indian buck made his way from the doorway toward +them. + +"Who is sick, friend?" asked Billy. + +"Old buck," said the Indian. + +"Apache?" said Billy. + +The Indian nodded. + +"You _sabe_ Apache named Kut-le?" + +The buck shook his head, but Billy went on patiently. + +"Yes, you _sabe_ him. He old Ke-say's son. Apache chief's son. He +run off with white squaw. We want squaw, we no hurt him. Squaw sick, +no good for Injun. You tell, have money." Billy displayed a silver +dollar. + +The Indian brightened. + +"Long time 'go, some Injun say he _sabe_ Kut-le. Some Injun say he all +same white man. Some Injun say he heap smart." He looked at Billy +inquiringly, and Billy nodded approval. DeWitt swallowed nervously. +"Come two, three day 'go," the buck went on, his eyes on the silver +dollar, "big Injun, carry white squaw, go by here very fast. He go +that way all heap fast." The buck pointed south. + +"Did he speak to you? What did he say?" cried DeWitt. + +But the Indian lapsed into silence and refused to speak more. Porter +felt well rewarded for his efforts and tossed the dollar to the Indian. + +"Gee!" said Billy, as they started elated down the mountain. "I wish +we could overtake him before he outfits again. That poverty-stricken +lot couldn't have had any horses here for him to use. I'll bet he +makes for the nearest ranch where he could steal a good bunch. That +would be at Kelly's, sixty miles south of here. We'll hike for +Kelly's!" + +This idea did not meet with enthusiastic approval from the other three +but as no one had a better suggestion to make, the trail to Kelly's was +taken. It seemed to John Dewitt that Billy relied little on science +and much on intuition in trailing the Indians. At first, considering +Porter's early boasts about his skill, DeWitt was much disappointed by +the old-timer's haphazard methods. But after a few weeks' testing of +the terrible hardships of the desert, after a few demonstrations of the +Apache's cleverness, John had concluded that intuition was the most +reliable weapon that the whites could hope to discover with which to +offset the Indian's appalling skill and knowledge. + +It was an exhausted quartet with its string of horses that drew up at +Kelly's dusty corral. Dick Kelly, a stocky Irishman, greeted the +strangers pleasantly. When, however, he learned their names he rose to +the occasion as only an Irishman can. + +"You gentlemen are at the end of your rope, wid the end frayed at +that!" he said. "Now come in for a few hours' rest and the Chinaman +will cook you the best meal he knows how." + +"Lord, no!" cried Billy. "We're so close on the track now that we can +hang on to the end. If you've had no trace here we'll just double back +and start from the mountains again!" + +By this time a dozen cowboys and ranch hands were gathered about the +newcomers. Every one knew about Rhoda's disappearance. Every one knew +about every man in the little search party. In the flicker of the +lanterns the men looked pityingly at DeWitt's haggard face. + +"Say," said a tall, lank cowman, "if you'll go in and sleep till +daylight, usn'll scour this part of the desert with a fine-tooth comb. +So you all won't lose a minute by taking a little rest. An' if we find +the Injun we'll string him up and save you the trouble." + +DeWitt spoke for the first time. + +"If you find the Indian," he said succinctly, "he's mine!" + +There was a moment's silence in the crowd. These men were familiar +with elemental passion. DeWitt's feeling was perfectly correct in +their eyes. The pause came as each pictured himself in DeWitt's place +with the image of the delicate Eastern girl suffering who knew what +torments constantly before him. + +"If Mr. Kelly can arrange for that," said Jack, "I guess it will about +save our lives. I'd like a chance to write a letter to my wife." + +"You ought to go back to the ditch, Jack," said DeWitt, "Porter and I +will manage somehow." + +Jack gave DeWitt a strange look. + +"Rhoda's a lifelong friend of mine. She was stolen from my home by my +friend whom I told her she could trust. Katherine and the foreman can +run the ranch." + +By the time that the four had washed themselves, Kelly had his men +dotted over the surrounding desert. For the first time in weeks, the +searchers sat down at a table. DeWitt, Porter and Newman were in +astonishing contrast to the three who had dined at the Newman ranch the +night of Cartwell's introduction to Porter. Their khaki clothes had +gradually been replaced by nondescript garments picked up at various +ranches. DeWitt and Porter boasted of corduroy trousers, while Jack +wore overalls. On the other hand, Jack wore a good blue flannel shirt, +while the other two displayed only faded gingham garments that might +have answered to almost any name. All of them were a deep mahogany +color, with chapped, split lips and bleached hair, while DeWitt's eyes +were badly inflamed from sun-glare and sand-storm. + +They ate silently. Dick Kelly, sitting at the head of the table, plied +them with food and asked few questions. DeWitt's shaking hands told +him that questions were torture to the poor fellow. After the meal +Kelly led them to bed at once, and they slept without stirring until +four o'clock in the morning, when the Chinaman called them. Breakfast +was steaming on the table. + +"Now," said Kelly, as his guests ate, "the boys didn't get a smell for +ye, but we've a suggestion. Have you been through the Pueblo country +yet?" + +"No," said Porter. + +"Well," the host went on, "Chira is the only place round here except my +ranch where he could get a new outfit. He's part Pueblo, you know, +too. I'd start for there if I was you." + +Carlos entered to hear this suggestion. + +"I've got a friend at Chira," he said, "who might help us. He's a +half-breed." + +The tired men took eagerly to this forlorn hope. With all the +population of the ranch, including the cook, gathered to wish them +Godspeed, the four started off before the sun had more than tinted the +east. Kelly had offered them anything on the ranch, from himself, his +cook and his cowboys, to the choice of his horses. His guests left as +much heartened by his cheerfulness and good will as they were by the +actual physical comforts he had given them. + +The trail to Chira was long and hard. They reached the little town at +dusk and Carlos set out at once in search of his friend, Philip. He +found him easily. He was half Mexican, half Pueblo. He and Carlos +chatted briskly in hybrid Spanish while the Americans watched the +horses wade in the little river. Visitors were so common in Chira that +the newcomers attracted little or no attention. + +Carlos finally turned from his friend. + +"Philip does not know anything about it. He says for us to come to his +house while he finds out anything. His wife is a good cook." + +The thought of a hot meal was pleasant to the Americans. They followed +gladly to Philip's adobe rooms. Here the half-breed left them to his +wife and disappeared. He was gone perhaps an hour when he returned +with a bit of cloth in his hand, which he handed to Carlos with a few +rapid sentences. Carlos gave the scrap of cloth to DeWitt, who looked +at it eagerly then gave a cry of joy. It was Rhoda's handkerchief. + +"He found a little girl washing her doll with it at the river," said +Carlos. "She said she found it blowing along the street this morning." + +"Come on!" cried Jack, making for the door. + +"Come on where?" said Billy. "If they are in the village, you don't +want to get away very far. And if they ain't, which way are you going?" + +"Ask Philip where to go, Carlos," said DeWitt. + +He held the little moist handkerchief in his hand tightly while his +heart beat heavily. Once more hope was soaring high. + +Philip thought deeply, then he and Carlos talked rapidly together. + +"Philip says," reported Carlos, "that you must go out and watch along +the river front so that if they have not gone you can catch them if +they try. He and I will go visit every family as if I wanted to buy an +outfit." + +Darkness had settled on the little town when the three Americans took +up their vigil opposite the open face of the Pueblo along the river. +All that night they stood on guard but not a human being crossed their +line of patrol. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +AN INTERLUDE + +Late in the afternoon, Rhoda woke. Kut-le stood beside her. His +expression was half eager, half tender. + +"How do you feel now?" he asked. + +"Quite well," answered Rhoda. "Will you call Marie? I want to dress." + +"You must rest in bed today," replied the Indian. "Tomorrow will be +soon enough for you to get up." + +Rhoda looked at the young man with irritation. + +"Can't you learn that I am not a squaw? That it maddens me to be +ordered about? That every time you do you alienate me more, if +possible?" + +"You do foolish stunts," said Kut-le calmly, "and I have to put you +right." + +Rhoda moaned. + +"Oh, how long, how long must I endure this! How could they be so +stupid as to let you slip through their fingers so!" + +Kut-le's mouth became a narrow seam. + +"As soon as I can get you into the Sierra Madre, I shall marry you. +You are practically a well woman now. But I am not going to hurry +overmuch. You are going to love me first and you are going to love +this life first. Then we will go to Paris until the storm has passed." + +Rhoda did not seem to hear him. She tossed her arms restlessly. + +"Please send Marie to me," she said finally. "You will permit me to +eat something perhaps?" + +Kut-le left the room at once. In a short time he returned with Marie, +who bore a steaming bowl which he himself flanked with a dish of +luscious melon. The woman propped Rhoda adroitly to a sitting position +and Kut-le gravely balanced the bowl against the girl's knees. The +stew which the bowl contained was delicious, and Rhoda ate it to the +last drop. She ate in silence, while Kut-le watched her with +unspeakable longing in his eyes. The room was almost dark when the +simple meal was finished. Marie brightened the fire and smoothed +Rhoda's blankets. + +"Kut-le go now," said the Pueblo woman. "You rest. In morning, Marie +bring white squaw some clothes." + +Rhoda was glad to pillow her head on her arm but it was long before she +slept. She tried to piece together her faint and distorted +recollection of the occurrences since the morning when the mesa had +risen through the dawn. But her only clear picture was of John +DeWitt's wild face as she disappeared into the fissure. She recalled +its look of agony and sobbed a little to herself as she realized what +torture he and the Newmans must have endured since her disappearance. +And yet she was very hopeful. If her friends could come as close to +her as they did before the mesa, they must be learning Kut-le's +methods. Surely the next time luck would not play so well for the +Indian. + +Rhoda woke in the morning to the sound of song. Marie knelt on the +ground before a sloping slab of stone and patiently kneeded corn with a +smaller stone. Her song, a quaint repetition of short mellow syllables +pleased Rhoda's sensitive ear and she lay listening. When Marie saw +Rhoda's wide eyes she came to the girl's side. + +"You feel good now?" she queried. + +"Yes, much better. I want to get up." + +The Indian woman nodded. + +"Marie clean white squaw's clothes. White squaw wear Marie's. Now +Marie help you wash." + +Rhoda smiled. + +"You are not an Apache if you want me to bathe!" + +Marie answered indignantly. + +"Marie is Pueblo squaw!" + +The clothes that Marie brought, Rhoda thought very attractive. There +was a soft wool underdress of creamiest tint. Over this Marie pulled, +fastening it at one shoulder, a gay, many-colored overdress which, like +the one she herself wore, reached to the knees. Rhoda pulled on her +own high laced boots which had been neatly mended. Then the two turned +their attention to the neglected braid of hair. + +When it was loosened and hung in tangled masses nearly to Rhoda's +knees, Marie's delight in its loveliness knew no expression. She +fetched a queer battered old comb which she washed and then proceeded +with true feminine rapture to comb the wonderful waving locks. In the +midst of this Kut-le entered. He gazed on Rhoda's new disguise with +delight. Indeed her delicate face, above the many-hued garment, was +like a harebell growing in a gaudy nasturtium bed. + +"We can only let you on the roof," said Kut-le, who was carrying +Rhoda's sombrero. + +Rhoda made no reply but when Marie had plaited her hair in a rippling +braid she followed Kut-le up the short ladder. Her sense of +cleanliness after the weeks of disorder was delightful. As she stepped +on the flat-topped roof and the sweet clear air filled her lungs she +felt as if reborn. With Navajo blankets, Kut-le had contrived an +awning that not only made a bit of shade but precluded view from below. +The rich tints of the blankets were startlingly picturesque against the +yellow gray of the adobe. Rhoda, dropped luxuriantly to the heap of +blankets and turned her face toward the mountain, many-colored and bare +toward the base, deep-cloaked with piñon, oak and Juniper on the +uplands. From its base flowed the little river, gurgling over its +shallow bed of stone and rich with green along its flat banks. Close +beside the river was the Pueblo village, the many-terraced buildings, +on one of the roofs of which Rhoda sat. + +Kut-le, stretched on the roof near by, smoked cigarette after cigarette +as he watched the girl's quiet face, but he did not speak. For three +or four hours the two sat thus in silence. Just as the sun sank behind +the mountain, a bell clanged and then fell to tolling softly. Then +Kut-le broke his silence. + +"That's the bell of the old mission. Some one has been buried, I +guess. We can look. There are no tourists now." + +There was a sound of wailing: a deep mournful sound that caught Rhoda's +heart to her throat and blanched her face. It was the sound of the +grief of primitive man, the cry of the forlorn and broken-hearted, +uncloaked by convention. It touched a primitive chord of response in +Rhoda that set her to trembling. Surely, when the world was young she +too had wept so. Surely she too had voiced a poignant, unbearable loss +in just such a wild outpouring of grief! + +They moved to the edge of the terrace and looked below into the street. +Down the rocky way a line of Indians was bearing hand-mills and jars +and armloads of ornaments. + +"They will take those to the 'killing place' and break them that the +dead owner may have them afterward," explained Kut-le softly. "It +always makes me think of a verse in the Bible. I can't recall the +words exactly though." + +Rhoda glanced up into the dark face with a look of appreciation. + +"'And the grinders shall cease because they are few!'" she said, "'and +those that look out of the windows be darkened. And the doors shall be +shut in the street when the sound of the grinding is low, because man +goeth to his long home and mourners go about the street.'" + +"And there is something else," murmured Kut-le, "about 'the silver +cord.'" + +"'Or ever the silver cord be loosed or the golden bowl be broken or the +pitcher be broken at the fountain or the wheel broken at the cistern. +Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was and the spirit to God +who gave it.'" + +They stood in silence again. The wailing died into the distance. The +sun touched to molten gold the heavy shadows of the mountain arroyos. +Rhoda was deeply moved by the scene below her. She felt as if she had +been thrust back through the ages to look upon the sorrow of some +little Judean town. The little rocky street, the vivid robes, the +weird, dying wail, the broken ornaments and utensils that some folded +tired hands would use no more, and, above all, the simple unquestioning +faith, roused in her a sudden longing for a life that she never had +known. For a long time she stood in thought. As darkness fell she +roused herself. + +"Let me go back to my room," she said. + +As they turned, neither noticed that Rhoda's little handkerchief, which +she had carried through all her experiences, fluttered from her sleeve +to the street. + +Again it was long before Rhoda slept. Through her window there floated +the sound of song, the evening singing of Indian lads in the village +street. There was a vibrant quality in their voices that Rhoda could +liken only to the music of stringed instruments. There was neither the +mellow smoothness of the negro voice nor the flute-like sweetness of +the white, yet the voices compassed all the mystical appealing quality +of violin notes. + +The music woke in Rhoda a longing for she knew not what. It seemed to +her as if she were peering past a misty veil into the childhood of the +world to whose simple beauty and delights civilization had made her +alien. The vibrating voices chanted slower and slower. Rhoda stirred +uneasily. To be free again as these voices were free! Not to long for +the civilization she had left but for open skies and trails! To be +free again! + +As the voices melted into silence, a guitar was touched softly under +Rhoda's window and Kut-le's voice rose in _La Golondrina_: + + "Whither so swiftly flies the timid swallow? + What distant bourne seeks her untiring wing? + To reach her nest what needle does she follow + When darkness wraps the poor wee storm-tossed thing?" + +Rhoda stirred restlessly and threw her arms above her head. + + "To build her nest near to my couch I'll call her! + Why go so far dark and strange skies to seek? + Safe would she be, no evil should befall her, + For I'm an exile sad, too sad to weep!" + +Mist-like floated across Rhoda's mind a memory of the trail with voice +of mating bird at dawn, with stars and the night wind and the open way. +And going before, always Kut-le--Kut-le of the unfathomable eyes, of +the merry smile, of the gentle touch. The music merged itself into +Rhoda's dreams. + +She spent the following day on the roof. Curled on her Navajo she +watched the changing tones on the mountains and listened to the soft +voices of the Pueblo women in the street below. Naked brown babies +climbed up and down the ladders and paddled in the shallow river Indian +women with scarlet shawls across their shoulders filled their ollas at +the river and stood gossiping, the brimming ollas on their heads. In +the early morning the men had trudged to the alfalfa and melon fields +and returned at sundown to be greeted joyfully by the women and +children. + +Kut-le spent the day at Rhoda's side. They talked but little, though +Rhoda had definitely abandoned her rule of silence toward the Indian. +Her mind during most of the day was absorbed in wondering why she so +enjoyed watching the life in this Indian town and why she was not more +impatient to be gone. + +As the sun dropped behind the mountain Marie appeared on the roof, her +black eyes very bright. + +"Half-breed Philip find white squaw's handkerchief. Give to white men, +maybe! Marie see Philip get handkerchief from little girl." + +Kut-le gave Rhoda an inscrutable look, but she did not tell him that +she shared his surprise. + +"Well," said Kut-le calmly, "maybe we had better mosey along." + +They descended to find Marie hastily doing up a bundle of bread and +fruit. While Kut-le went for blankets Rhoda, at Marie's request, +donned her old clothing of the trail. She had been wearing the squaw's +holiday outfit. Very shortly, with a hasty farewell to Marie, they +were in the dusky street. "Shall I gag you," asked Kut-le, "or will +you give me your word of honor to give neither sign nor sound until we +get to the mountain, and to keep your face covered with your Navajo?" + +Rhoda sighed. + +"Very well, I promise," she said. + +In a very short time they had reached the end of the little street and +were climbing an arroyo up into the mountain. When they reached the +piñons Kut-le gave the coyote call. It thrilled Rhoda with the misery +of the night of her capture. Almost immediately there was an answering +call and close in the shadow of the piñon they found Alchise and the +two squaws. Molly ran to Rhoda with a squeal of joy and patted the +girl's hand but Alchise and Cesca gave no heed to her greeting. + +The ponies were ready and Rhoda swung herself to her saddle, with a +thrill at the touch of the muscular little horse. And once more she +rode after Kut-le with the mystery of the night trail before her. + +The sound of water falling, the cheep of wakening birds, the subtle +odor of moisture-drenched soil roused Rhoda from her half sleep on the +horse's back at the end of the night's journey. The trail had not been +hard, through an endless pine forest for the most part. Kut-le drew +rein beside a little waterfall deep in the mountain fastness. Rhoda +saw a chaos of rock masses huge and distorted, as if an inconceivably +cruel and gigantic hand had juggled with weights seemingly immovable; +about these the loveliness of vine and shrub; above them the towering +junipers dwarfed by the rocks they shaded; and falling softly over the +harsh brown rifts of rock, the liquid green and white of a mountain +brook which, as it reached the level, rushed away in a roar of foam. + +Rhoda's horse drank thirstily and she stood beside him watching the +mystical gray of the dawn lift to the riotous rose of the sunrise. She +wondered at the quick throb of her pulse. It was very different from +its wonted soft beat. Then she threw herself on her blanket to sleep. + +When Rhoda woke, late in the day, Kut-le had spread Marie's cakes and +fruit on leaves which he had washed in the brook. + +"They are quite clean, I think," he said a little anxiously. "At least +the squaws haven't touched them." + +Rhoda and Kut-le sat on a rock and ate hungrily. When she had finished +Rhoda clasped her hands about her knees. She looked singularly boyish, +with her sombrero pushed back from her face and short locks of damp +hair curling from beneath the crown. + +"Isn't it queer," she said, "that you elude Jack and John DeWitt so +easily?" + +"The trouble is," said Kut-le, "that you don't appreciate the prowess +of your captors." + +"Humph!" sniffed Rhoda. + +"Listen!" cried Kut-le with sudden enthusiasm. "Once in my boyhood +Geronima and about twenty warriors, with twice as many squaws and +children, fled to the mountains. They never drew rein until they were +one hundred and twenty miles from the reservation. Then for six months +they were pursued by two thousand American soldiers and they never lost +a man!" + +"How many whites were killed?" asked Rhoda. + +"About a hundred!" + +"I don't understand yet," Rhoda shook her head, "how savages could +outwit whites for so long a time." + +"But it's not a contest of brains. Whites must travel like whites, +with food and rests. The Apache travels like the coyote, living off +the country. Your ancestors have been training your brain for a +thousand years. Mine have spent centuries of days, twenty-four hours a +day, training the body to endure hardships. You have had a glimpse of +what the hardships of this country might mean to a white!" + +As Kut-le talked, Rhoda sat with her eyes fastened on the rough face of +a distant rock. As she watched she saw a thick, leafy bush move up to +the rock. Rhoda caught her breath, glanced at the unconscious Kut-le, +then back at the bush. It moved slowly back among the trees and after +a moment Rhoda saw the undergrowth far beyond move as with a passing +breeze. She glanced at the nodding Alchise and the squaws, then smiled +and turned to Kut-le. + +"Go on with your boasting, Kut-le. It's your one weakness, I think." + +Kut-le grinned. + +"Well now, honestly, what do you think that a lot of Caucasians can do +with an enemy whose existence has always been a fist to fist fight with +nature at her cruelest? We have fought with our bare hands and we have +won," he continued, half to himself. "No white man or any number of +whites can capture me on my own ground!" + +"Boaster!" laughed Rhoda. + +Just beyond the falls an aspen quivered. John DeWitt stepped into +view. Haggard and wild-eyed, he stared at Rhoda. She raised her +finger to her lips, but too late. Kut-le too looked up, and raised his +gun. Rhoda hurled herself toward him and struck up the barrel. Kut-le +dropped the gun and caught Rhoda in his arms. + +"The woods are full of them!" he grunted. With one hand across Rhoda's +mouth, he ran around the falls and dropped six feet to a narrow back +trail. + +"My own ground!" Rhoda heard him chuckle. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE BEAUTY OF THE WORLD + +For many hurrying minutes, Rhoda saw only the passing tree branches +black against the evening sky as she lay across Kut-le's breast. The +pursuers had made no sound nor had Kut-le broken a single twig. The +entire incident might have been a pantomime, with every actor +tragically intent. + +Having long learned the futility of struggling, Rhoda lay quietly +enough, her ears keen to catch the sound of pursuit. Kut-le did not +remove his hand from her mouth. But as he dropped rapidly and +skilfully down the mountainside he whispered: + +"My own ground, you see! It will take them a good while in the dusk to +find that back trail. Only a few Indians know it." + +But Rhoda's heart was beating high. Let Kut-le boast as he would, she +was sure that Jack and John DeWitt were learning to follow the trail. +The most vivid picture in her mind was of the utter weariness of John's +face. In the past weeks Rhoda had learned how fearful had been the +hardships that would bring such weariness to a human face. Tears came +to her eyes. No one so weak, so useless as herself, she felt, could be +worth such travail. + +Silently they moved through the dusk. Rhoda knew that the other +Indians must be close behind them, yet no sound betrayed their +presence. After a half-hour or so she struggled to be set down. But +Kut-le only tightened his hold and it was fully two hours later that he +set her on her feet. + +"Don't move," he said. "We are on a cañon edge." + +Rhoda swung her blanket to her shoulders, for the night was stinging +sharp. She was not afraid. She had grown so accustomed to the night +trail that she moved unhesitatingly along black rims that had at first +paralyzed her with fear. + +"Now," said Kut-le, "I'm not going to travel on foot. The only horses +within easy distance are some that a bunch of Navajos have in the cañon +below here. So we will go down and get them. We will go together +because I can't risk coming back for you. We will have to hike +_pronto_ after we get 'em. Just remember that you are contaminated by +the company you are keeping and that if you make any noise, the Navajos +will shoot you up, with the rest of us! Keep right behind me." + +The little group moved carefully down the cañon trail. In a short time +they reached a growth of trees. They stole through these, the only +sound Rhoda's panting breaths. Suddenly Kut-le stopped. + +"Wait here!" he breathed in Rhoda's ear, and he and Alchise disappeared. + +A hand was laid on her arm and Rhoda knew that Molly and Cesca were +guarding her. Almost immediately the soft thud of hoofs was upon them. +Kut-le seized Rhoda and tossed her to a pony's back. + +"It was dead easy!" he whispered. "They were all asleep! I even took +a saddle for you! Now hike!" + +Rhoda gripped her pony with her knees as the little fellow cantered +unerringly through the darkness after Kut-le. She felt a sudden pride +and exultation in the security she had developed in the saddle during +the travail of her night rides. She knew that no man of her +acquaintance could ride a horse as she could now. And with the +exultation she was trembling with excitement. She knew that none of +them could expect mercy if the Navajos discovered their loss in time to +take up the chase. All the eagerness of the gambler who stakes his +life on a throw of the dice; all the wild thrill of the chase; all the +trembling of the panting, woodland things that hunt and are hunted, +were Rhoda's as the night wind rushed past her face. The apathy of +illness was gone. Tonight she was as wild a thing as the night's birds +that brushed across their trail on sweeping wing. + +When they made camp at dawn Rhoda tumbled into her blanket and was +asleep before Alchise finished covering their trail. When she woke she +found that they were camped in a strange eerie. They were high up on a +mountain on a shelf that gave back into a shallow cave. In front, +facing the desert, was a heap of rock that formed a natural rampart. A +tiny spring bubbled from the cave floor. Here the little party would +seem as secure in their dizzy seclusion as eagles of the Andes. + +It was barely noon and the mountain air was sweet and exhilarating. +Kut-le sat against the rampart, smoking a cigarette, while Molly and +Cesca worked over the fire. Rhoda lunched on the tortillas to which +Molly had clung through all the vicissitudes of flight. + +"Where are the horses?" she asked Kut-le. + +"Oh, Alchise took them back. We must stay here a while till your mob +of friends disperses. I couldn't feed them and I wanted to pacify the +Navajos and get some supplies from them. Alchise will fix it up with +them." + +And here on this dizzy brink of the desert Kut-le did pause as if for a +long, long holiday. The wisdom of the proceeding did not trouble him +at all. The call of the desert was an allurement to which he yielded +unresistingly, trusting to elude capture through his skill and +unfailing good fortune. + +To Rhoda the pause was welcome. She still had faith that the longer +they camped in one spot the surer would be the pursuers to stumble upon +them. Kut-le began to devote himself entirely to Rhoda's amusement. +He knew all the plant and animal life of the desert, not only as an +Indian but as a college man who had loved biology. By degrees Rhoda's +good brain began to respond to his vivid interest and the girl in her +stay on the mountain shelf learned the desert as has been given to few +whites to learn it. Besides what she learned from the men Rhoda became +expert in camp work under Molly's patient teaching. She could kindle +the tiny, smokeless fire. She could concoct appetizing messes from the +crude food. She could detect good water from bad and could find forage +for horses. The crowning pride of her achievements was learning to +weave the dish basketry. + +They had lived in the mountain niche some three weeks when Alchise and +Kut-le left the camp one afternoon, Alchise on a turkey hunt, Kut-le on +one of his mysterious trips for supplies. Alchise returned at dusk +with a beautiful bird which Rhoda and Molly roasted with enthusiasm. +But Kut-le did not appear at supper time as he had promised. When the +meal was almost spoiled from waiting, Rhoda and the Indians ate. As +the evening wore on, Alchise grew uneasy, but he dared not disobey +Kut-le's orders and leave the camp unguarded at night. + +Rhoda speculated, torn between hope and fear. Perhaps the searchers +had captured Kut-le at last. Perhaps he had given up hope of winning +her love and had gone for good. Perhaps, somewhere or other, he was +lying badly hurt! The little group sat up much later than usual, Cesca +silently smoking her endless cigarettes, Alchise and Molly talking now +in Apache, now in English. Rhoda was convinced that they were puzzled +and worried. + +Even after she had lain down on her blankets Rhoda could not sleep. +With Kut-le gone her sense of the camp's security was gone. She rose +finally and sat beside Alchise who, rifle in hand, guarded the ledge. +There was no moon but the stars were very large and near. Rhoda was +growing to know the stars. They were remote in the East; in the desert +they become a part of one's existence. The sense of stupendous +distance was greater at night than in the daytime. The infinite +heavens, stretching depth beyond depth, the faint far spaces of the +desert, were as if one looked on the Great Mystery itself. + +When dawn came, Alchise wakened Cesca, put the rifle into her hands, +and hurried back up over the mountain. The purple shadows had +lightened to gray when Rhoda saw Kut-le staggering up the trail from +the desert. Rhoda gave a little cry and ran down to meet him. + +"Kut-le! What happened to you? We were so worried!" + +There was a bloody rag tied just below the young Indian's knee. He +paused, supporting himself against a rock. Across his eyes, drawn and +haggard with pain, flashed a look of joy that Rhoda, eying the bandage, +did not see. + +"I was late starting back," he said briefly. "In the darkness a bit of +the trail gave way, dropped me into a cañon and laid my leg open. I +was unconscious a long time and lost a lot of blood, so it has taken me +the rest of the night to get here. Would you mind getting Alchise to +help me up the trail?" + +"Alchise has gone to look for you. Lean on me," said Rhoda simply. + +Despite his weakness, the dark blood flushed the young man's face, +while Rhoda's utter unconsciousness of her changed manner brought a +smile to his set lips. Not if the torture of dragging himself up the +trail were to be ten times greater would he now have availed himself of +help from Alchise. + +"If you will let me put my arm across your shoulder we can make it," he +said as quietly as though his heart were not leaping. + +Rhoda's squaring of her slender shoulders was distractingly boyish. +Utterly heedless of the pain which each step cost him, Kut-le made his +way slowly to the ledge, ordering back the flustered squaws and leaning +on Rhoda only enough to feel the tender girlish shoulders beneath the +worn blue blouse. + +In the camp, Rhoda assumed command while Kut-le lay on his blanket +watching her in silent content. She put one of Alchise's two calico +shirts on to boil over the breakfast fire. She washed out the nasty +cut and bandaged it with strips from the sterilized shirt. She brought +Kut-le's breakfast and her own to his blanket side and coaxed the young +man to eat, he assuming great indifference merely for the happiness of +being urged. Rhoda was so energetic and efficient that the sun was +just climbing from behind the far peaks when Kut-le finished his bacon +and coffee. The girl stood looking at him, hands on hips, head on one +side, with that look in her eyes of superiority, maternity and +complacent tenderness which a woman can assume only when she has +ministered to the needs of a helpless masculine thing. + +"There!" she said with a sigh of satisfaction. + +"Rhoda," said Kut-le, hoping that the heavy thumping of his heart did +not shake his whole broad chest, "how long ago was it that you were a +helpless, dying little girl without strength to cut up your own food? +How long since you have served any one but yourself?" + +Rhoda drew a quick breath. She stood staring from the Indian to the +desert, to her slender body, and back again. She held out her hands +and looked at them. They were scratched and brown and did not tremble. +Then she looked at the young Indian and he never was to forget the +light in her eyes. + +"Kut-le!" she cried. "Kut-le! I am well again! I am well again!" + +She paced back and forth along the ledge. Through the creamy tan her +cheeks flushed richly crimson. Finally she stopped before the Apache. + +"You have outraged all my civilized instincts," she said slowly, "yet +you have saved my life and given me health. Whatever comes, Kut-le, I +never shall forget that!" + +"I have changed more than that," said Kut-le quietly. "Where is your +old hatred of the desert?" + +Rhoda turned to look. At the edge of the distant ranges showed a rim +of red. Crimson spokes of fire flashed to the zenith. The sky grew +brighter, more translucent, the ranges melted into molten gold. The +sun, hot and scarlet, rolled into view. Into Rhoda's heart flooded a +sense of infinite splendor, infinite beauty, infinite peace. + +"Why!" she gasped to Kut-le, "it is beautiful! It's not terrible! +It's unadorned beauty!" + +The Indian nodded but did not speak. Rhoda never was to forget that +day. Long years after she was to catch the afterglow of that day of +her rebirth. Suddenly she realized that never could a human have found +health in a setting more marvelous. The realization was almost too +much. Kut-le, with sympathy for which she was grateful, did not talk +to her much. Once, however, as she brought him a drink and +mechanically smoothed his blanket he said softly: + +"You who have been served and demanded service all your life, why do +you do this?" + +Rhoda answered slowly. + +"I'm not serving you. I'm trying to pay up some of the debt of my +life." + +Kut-le was about in a day or so and by the end of the week he was quite +himself. He resumed the daily expeditions with Rhoda and Alchise which +provided text for the girl's desert learning. Rhoda's old despondency, +her old agony of prayer for immediate rescue had given way to a strange +conflict of desires. She was eager for rescue, was conscious of a +constant aching desire for her own people, and yet the old sense of +outrage, of grief, of hopelessness was gone. + +Of a sudden she found herself pausing, thrusting back the problems that +confronted her while she drank to the full this strange mad joy of life +which she felt must leave her when she left the desert. She knew only +that the fear of death was gone. That hours of fever and pain were no +more. That her mind had found its old poise but with an utterly new +view-point of life. Her blood ran red. Her lungs breathed deep. Her +eyes saw distances too big for their conception, beauties so deep that +her spirit had to expand to absorb them. + +The silent nights of stars, the laborious crests that tossed sudden and +unspeakable views before the eyes, the eternal cañons that led beneath +ranges of surpassing majesty, roused in her a passion of delight that +could find expression only in her growing physical prowess. She lived +and ate like a splendid boy. Day after day she scaled the ranges with +Kut-le and Alchise; tenderly reared creature of an ultracivilization as +she was, she learned the intricate lore of the aborigines, learned what +students of the dying people would give their hearts to know. + +Kut-le wakened Rhoda at dawn one day. She prepared the breakfast of +coffee, bacon and tortilla. Alchise shared this eagerly with Rhoda and +Kut-le, though already he had eaten with the squaws. The day was still +gray when the three set out on a long day's trip in search of game. +The way this morning led up a cañon deep and quiet, with the night +shadows still dark and cool within it. The air was that of a northern +day of June. + +Rhoda tramped bravely, up and up, from cactus to bear grass, from bear +grass to stunted cedar, from cedar to pines that at last rose +triumphant at the crest of a great ridge. Here Rhoda and Kut-le flung +themselves to the ground to rest while Alchise prowled about +restlessly. Across a hundred miles of desert rose faint snow-capped +peaks. + +Kut-le watched Rhoda's rapt face for a time. Then, as if unable to +keep back the words, he said softly: + +"Rhoda! Stay here, always! Marry me and stay here always!" + +Rhoda looked at the beautiful pleading eyes. She stirred restlessly; +but before she could frame an answer Alchise appeared, followed by a +lean old Indian all but toothless who wore a pair of tattered overalls +and a gauze shirt. The two Indians stopped before Kut-le, and Alchise +jerked a thumb at the stranger. + +"_Sabe_ no white talk," he said. + +Kut-le passed the stranger a cigarette, which he accepted without +comment. A rapid conversation followed between the three Indians. + +"He is an Apache," explained Kut-le, finally, to Rhoda. "His name is +Injun Tom. He says that Newman and Porter hired him to trail us but he +is tired of the job. They foolishly advanced him five dollars. He +says they are camping in the valley right below here." + +Rhoda sprang to her feet. + +"Where are you going?" smiled Kut-le. "He says they are going to shoot +me on sight!" + +Under her tan Rhoda's face whitened. + +"Would they shoot you, Kut-le, even if I told them not to?" + +At the sight of the paling face the young man murmured, "You dear!" +under his breath. Then aloud, "Not if I were your husband." + +"How can I marry a savage?" cried Rhoda. + +Kut-le put his hand under the cleft chin and lifted the sweet face till +it looked directly into his. His gaze was very deep and clear. + +"Am I nothing but a naked savage, Rhoda?" he said. "Am I?" + +Rhoda's eyes did not leave his. + +"No!" she said softly, under her breath. + +Kut-le's eyes deepened. He turned and picked up his rifle. + +"Bring your friend back to dinner, Alchise," he said. "Our little +holiday must end right here." + +They reached the camp at noon and while the squaws made ready for +breaking camp, Rhoda sat deep in thought. Before her were the burning +sky and desert, with hawk and buzzard circling in the clear blue. +Where had the old hatred of Kut-le gone? Whence came this new trust +and understanding, this thrill at his touch? Kut-le, who had been +watching her adoringly, rose and came to her side. The rampart hid the +two from the others. Kut-le took one of Rhoda's hands in his firm +fingers and laid his lips against her palm. Rhoda flushed and drew her +hand away. But Kut-le again put his hand beneath her cleft chin and +lifted her face to his. + +Just as the brown face all but touched hers a voice sounded from behind +the rampart: + +"Hello, you! Where's Kut-le?" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +AN ESCAPE + +Rhoda sprang away from Kut-le and they both ran to the other side of +the rampart. Billy Porter, worn and tattered but still looking very +well able to hold his own, stood staring into the cave where the squaws +eyed him open-mouthed and Alchise, his hand on his rifle, scowled at +him aggressively. Porter's eye fell on Injun Tom. + +"U-huh! You pison Piute, you! I just nacherally snagged your little +game, didn't I?" + +"Billy!" cried Rhoda. "O Billy Porter!" + +Porter jumped as if at a blow. Rhoda stood against the rock in her +boyish clothes, her beautiful braid sweeping her shoulder, her face +vivid. + +"My God! Miss Rhoda!" cried Billy hoarsely, as he ran toward her with +outstretched hands. "Why, you are well! What's happened to you!" + +Here Kut-le stepped between the two. + +"Hello, Mr. Porter," he said. + +Billy stepped back and a look of loathing and anger took the place of +the joy that had been in his eyes before. + +"You Apache devil!" he growled. "You ain't as smart as you thought you +were!" + +Rhoda ran forward and would have taken Porter's hand but Kut-le +restrained her with his hand on her shoulder. + +"Where did you come from, Billy?" cried Rhoda. "Where are the others?" + +Billy's face cleared a little at the sound of the girl's voice. + +"They are right handy, Miss Rhoda." + +"I'll give you a few details, Rhoda," said Kut-le coolly. "You see he +is without water and his mouth is black with thirst. He started to +trail Injun Tom but got lost and stumbled on us." + +Rhoda gave a little cry of pity and running into the cave she brought +Billy a brimming cup of water. + +"Is that true, Billy?" she asked. "Are the others near here?" + +Billy nodded then drained the cup and held it out for more. + +"They are just around the corner!" with a glance at Kut-le, who smiled +skeptically. + +"Oh!" exclaimed Rhoda. "What terrible trouble I have made you all!" + +"You made!" said Porter. "Well that's good! Still, that Apache devil +doesn't seem to have harmed you. Just the same, he'll get his! If I +shot him now, the other Injuns would get me and God knows what would +happen to you!" + +"Whom do you call an Apache devil?" asked Kut-le. Rhoda never had seen +him show such evident anger. + +"You, by Judas!" replied Porter, looking into the young Indian's face. + +For a strained moment the two eyed each other, hatred glaring at +hatred, until Rhoda put a hand on Kut-le's arm. His face cleared at +once. + +"So that's my reputation now, is it?" he said lightly. + +"_That's_ your reputation!" sneered Billy. "Do you think that's _all_? +Why, don't you realize that you can't live in your own country again? +Don't you know that the whites will hunt you out like you was a rat? +Don't you realize that the folks that believed in you and was fond of +you has had to give up their faith in you? Don't you understand that +you've lost all your white friends? But I suppose that don't mean +anything to an Injun!" + +A look of sadness passed over Kut-le's face. + +"Porter," he said very gently, "I counted on all of that before I did +this thing. I thought that the sacrifice was worth while, and I still +think so. I'm sorry, for your sake, that you stumbled on us here. We +are going to start on the trail shortly and I must send you out to be +lost again. I'll let Alchise help you in the job. As you say, I have +sacrificed everything else in life; I can't afford to let anything +spoil this now. You can rest for an hour. Eat and drink and fill your +canteen. Take a good pack of meat and tortillas. You are welcome to +it all." + +The Indian spoke with such dignity, with such tragic sincerity, that +Porter gave him a look of surprise and Rhoda felt hot tears in her +eyes. Kut-le turned to the girl. + +"You can see that I can't let you talk alone with Porter, but go ahead +and say anything you want to in my hearing. Molly, you bring the white +man some dinner and fix him some trail grub. Hurry up, now!" + +He seated himself on the rampart and lighted a cigarette. Porter sat +down meditatively, with his back against the mountain wall. He was +discomfited. Kut-le had guessed correctly as to the circumstances of +his finding the camp. He had no idea where his friends might have gone +in the twenty-four hours since he had left them. When he stumbled on +to Kut-le he had had a sudden hope that the Indian might take him +captive. The Indian's quiet reception of him nonplussed him and roused +his unwilling admiration. + +Rhoda sat down beside Porter. + +"How is John?" she asked. + +"He is pretty good. He has lasted better than I thought he would." + +"And Katherine and Jack?" Rhoda's voice trembled as she uttered the +names. It was only with the utmost difficulty that she spoke +coherently. All her nerves were on the alert for some unexpected +action on the part of either Billy or the Indians. + +"Jack's all right," said Billy. "We ain't seen Mrs. Jack since the day +after you was took, but she's all to the good, of course, except she's +been about crazy about you, like the rest of us." + +"Oh, you poor, poor people!" moaned Rhoda. + +Porter essayed a smile with his cracked lips. + +"But, say, you do look elegant, Miss Rhoda. You ain't the same girl!" + +Rhoda blushed through her tan. + +"I forgot these," she said; "I've worn them so long." + +"It ain't the clothes," said Billy, "and it ain't altogether your fine +health. It's more--I don't know what it is! It's like the desert!" + +"That's what I tell her," said Kut-le. + +"Say," said Billy, scowling, "you've got a nerve, cutting in as if this +was a parlor conversation you had cut in on casual. Just keep out of +this, will you!" + +Rhoda flushed. + +"Well, as long as he can hear everything, it's a good deal of a farce +not to let him talk," she said. + +"Farce!" exclaimed Billy. "Say, Miss Rhoda, you ain't sticking up for +this ornery Piute, are you?" + +Rhoda looked at the calm eyes of the Indian, at the clean-cut +intelligence of his face, and she resented Porter's words. She +answered him softly but clearly. + +"Kut-le did an awful and unforgivable thing in stealing me. No one +knows that better than I do. But he has treated me with respect and he +has given me back my health. I thank him for that and--and I do +respect him!" + +Kut-le's eyes flashed with a deep light but he said nothing. Porter +stared at the girl with jaw dropped. + +"Good Lord!" he cried. "Respect him! Wouldn't that come and get you! +Do you mean that you want to stay with that Injun?" + +A slow flush covered Rhoda's tanned cheeks. Her cleft chin lifted a +little. + +"At the very first chance," she replied, "I shall escape." + +Porter sighed in great relief. + +"That's all right, Miss Rhoda," he said leniently. "Respect him all +you want to. I don't see how you can, but women is queer, if you don't +mind my saying so. I don't blame you for feeling thankful about your +health. You've stood this business better than any of us. Say, that +squaw seems to be puttin' all her time on making up my pack. Can't I +negotiate for something to eat right now? Tell her not to put pison +into it." + +Kut-le grinned. + +"Maybe Miss Tuttle will fix up something for you, so you can eat +without worrying." + +"Well, she won't, you know!" growled Porter. "_Her_ wait on me! She +ain't no squaw!" + +"Oh, but," cried Rhoda, "you don't know how proud I am of my skill! I +can run the camp just as well as the squaws." Then, as Porter scowled +at Kut-le, "He didn't make me! I wanted to, so as to be able to take +care of myself when I escaped. When you and I get away from him," she +looked at the silent Indian with an expression of daring that brought a +glint of amusement to his eyes, "I'll be able to live off the trail +better than you!" + +"Gee!" exclaimed Porter admiringly. + +"Of course, in one way it's no credit to me at all," Rhoda went on, +stirring the rabbit stew she was warming up. "Kut-le--" she paused. +Of what use was it to try to explain what Kut-le had done for her! + +She toasted fresh tortillas and poured the stew over them and brought +the steaming dish to Porter. He tasted of the mess tentatively. + +"By Hen!" he exclaimed, and he set upon the stew as if half starved, +while Rhoda watched him complacently. + +Seeing him apparently thus engrossed, Kut-le turned to speak to +Alchise. Instantly Porter dropped the stew, drew a revolver and fired +two rapid shots, one catching Alchise in the leg, the other Injun Tom. +Before he could get Kut-le the young Indian was upon him. + +"Run, Rhoda, run!" yelled Porter, as he went down, under Kut-le. + +Rhoda gave one glance at Injun Tom and Alchise writhing with their +wounds, at Porter's fingers tightening at Kut-le's throat, then she +seized the canteen she had filled for Porter and started madly down the +trail. The screaming squaws gave no heed to her. + +She ran swiftly, surely, down the rocky way, watching the trail with +secondary sense, for every other was strained to catch the sounds from +above. But she heard nothing but the screams of the squaws. The trail +twisted violently near the desert floor. She sped about one last +jutting buttress, then stopped abruptly, one hand on her heaving breast. + +A man was running toward the foot of the trail. He, too, stopped +abruptly. The girl seemed a marvel of beauty to him. With the curly +hair beneath the drooping sombrero, the tanned, flushed face, the +parted scarlet lips, the throat and tiny triangle of chest disclosed by +the rough blue shirt with one button missing from the top, and the +beautiful lithe legs in the clinging buckskins, Rhoda was a wonderful +thing to come upon unexpectedly. As John DeWitt took off his hat, his +haggard face went white, his stalwart shoulders heaved. + +"O John! Dear John DeWitt!" cried Rhoda. "Turn back with me quick! I +am running away while Mr. Porter holds Kut-le!" + +DeWitt held out his shaking hands to her, unbelieving rapture growing +in his eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +ADRIFT IN THE DESERT + +Rhoda put her hands into the outstretched, shaking palms. + +"Rhoda! Sweetheart! Sweetheart!" DeWitt gasped. Then his voice +failed him. + +For an instant Rhoda leaned against his heaving chest. She felt as if +after long wandering in a dream she suddenly had stepped back into +life. But it was only for the instant that she paused. Her face was +blazing with excitement. + +"Come!" she cried. "Come!" + +"Take my arm! Or had I better carry you?" exclaimed DeWitt. + +"Huh!" sniffed Rhoda. "Just try to keep up with me, that's all!" + +DeWitt, despite the need for haste, stopped and stared at the girl, +open-mouthed. Then as he realized what superb health she showed in +every line of face and body, he cried: + +"You are well! You are well! O Rhoda, I never thought to see you this +way!" + +Rhoda squeezed his fingers joyfully. + +"I am so strong! Hurry, John! Hurry!" + +"Where are the Indians?" panted DeWitt, running along beside her. +"What were those shots?" + +"Billy Porter found our camp. He shot Alchise and Injun Tom and he and +Kut-le were wrestling as I ran." Then Rhoda hesitated. "Perhaps you +ought to go back and help Billy!" + +But John pulled her ahead. + +"Leave you until I get you to safety? Why, Billy himself would half +murder me if I thought of it! Our camp is over there, a three hours' +trip." DeWitt pointed to a distant peak. "If we swing around to the +left, the Indians won't see us!" + +Hand in hand the two settled to a swinging trot. The dreadful fear of +pursuit was on them both. It submerged their first joy of meeting, and +left them panic-stricken. For many minutes they ran without speaking. +At last, when well out into the burning heat of the desert, they could +keep up the pace no longer and dropped to a rapid walk. Still there +came no sound of pursuit. + +"Was Porter hurt?" panted John. + +"Not when I left," answered Rhoda. + +"I wonder what his plan is?" said John. "He left the camp yesterday to +trail Injun Tom. We'll go back for him as quick as I can get you to +camp." + +Rhoda looked up at DeWitt anxiously. + +"You are very tired and worn, John," she said. + +"And you!" cried the man, looking down at the girl with the swinging, +tireless stride. "What miracle has come to you?" + +"I never dreamed that there could be health like this! I--" She +stopped, with head to one side. "Do you hear anything? What do you +suppose they are doing to each other? Oh, I hope neither of them will +get killed!" + +"I hope-- They have all promised to let me deal with Kut-le!" said +DeWitt grimly, pausing to listen intently. But no sound came across +the burning sands. + +Rhoda started at DeWitt's words. Suddenly her early sense of the +appalling nature of her experience returned to her. She looked with +new eyes at DeWitt's face. It was not the same face that she had last +seen at the Newman ranch. John had the look of a man who has passed +through the fire of tragedy. She gripped his burned fingers with both +her slender hands. + +"O John!" she cried, "I wasn't worth it! I wasn't worth it! Let's get +to the camp quickly, so that you can rest! It would take a lifetime of +devotion to make up for that look in your face!" + +John's quiet manner left him. + +"It was a devilish thing for him to do!" he said fiercely. "Heaven +help him when I get him!" Then before Rhoda could speak he smiled +grimly. "This pace is fearful. If you keep it up you will have +sunstroke, Rhoda. And at that, you're standing it better than I!" + +They slowed their pace. DeWitt was breathing hard as the burning lava +dust bit into his throat. + +"I haven't minded the physical discomfort," he went on. "It's the +mental torture that's been killing me. We've pushed hot on your trail +hour after hour, day in and day out. When they made me rest, I could +only lie and listen to you sob for help until--O my love! My love!--" + +His voice broke and Rhoda laid her cheek against his arm for a moment. + +"I know! O John dear, I know!" she whispered. + +They trudged on in silence for a time, both listening for the sound of +pursuit. Then DeWitt spoke, as if he forced himself to ask for an +answer that he dreaded. + +"Rhoda, did they torture you much?" + +"No! There was no torture except that of fearful hardships. At +first--you know how weak and sick I was, John--at first I just lived in +an agony of fear and anger--sort of a nightmare of exhaustion and +frenzy. Then at Chira I began to get strong and as my health came, the +wonder of it, the--oh, I can't put it into words; Kut-le was--" Rhoda +paused, wondering at the reluctance with which she spoke the young +Indian's name. "You missed us so narrowly so many times!" + +"The Indian had the devil's own luck and we always blundered," said +DeWitt. "I have had the feeling lately that my bones would be +bleaching on this stretch of Hades before you ever were heard of. +Rhoda, if I can get you safely to New York again I'll shoot the first +man who says desert to me!" + +Rhoda became strangely silent, though she clung to John's hand and now +and again lifted it against her cheek. The yellow of the desert reeled +in heat waves about them. The deep, intensely deep blue of the sky +glowed silently down on them. Never to see them again! Never to waken +with the desert stars above her face or to make camp with the crimson +dawn blinding her vision! Never to know again the wild thrill of the +chase! Finally Rhoda gave herself a mental shake and looked up into +John's tired face. + +"How did you come to leave the camp, John?" she asked gently. + +"It's all been luck," said John. "With the exception of a little trail +wisdom that Billy or Carlos raked up once in a while it's just been +hit-or-miss luck with us. We suspected that Billy had gone on Injun +Tom's trail, so we made camp on the spot so he wouldn't lose us. I +stood guard this morning while Jack and Carlos slept and then I thought +that that was fool nonsense, as Kut-le never traveled by day. So I +started on a hunt along Billy's trail--and here we are!" + +"Are there any other people hunting for me?" + +"Lord, yes! At first they were fairly walking over each other. But +the ranchers had to go back to their work and the curious got tired. +Most of those that are left are down along the Mexican border. They +thought of course that Kut-le would get off American territory as soon +as he could. Must we keep such a pace, Rhoda girl? You will be half +dead before we can reach the camp!" + +Rhoda smiled. + +"I've followed Kut-le's tremendous pace so many miles that I doubt if I +shall ever walk like a perfect lady again!" + +"I thought that I would go off my head," DeWitt went on, dropping into +a walk, "when I saw you there at Dead Man's Mesa and you escaped into +that infernal crevice! Gee, Rhoda, I can't believe that this really is +you!" + +The sun was setting as they climbed through a wide stretch of +greasewood to the first rough rock heaps of the mountains. Then DeWitt +paused uncertainly. + +"Why, this isn't right! I never was here before!" + +Rhoda spoke cheerfully. + +"Perhaps you have the right mountain but the wrong trail!" + +"No! This is altogether wrong. I remember this peak now, with a sort +of saw edge to the top. What a chump I am! I distinctly remember +seeing this mountain from the trail this morning." + +"How did it lie?" asked Rhoda, sitting down on a convenient stone. + +"Gee, I can't remember whether to the right or left!" + +Rhoda clasped and unclasped her hands nervously. + +"I hate to stop. One can't tell what Kut-le is up to!" + +DeWitt squared his broad shoulders. + +"Don't you worry, little girl. If he does find us he'll have to take +us both! We'll just have to rest here for a moment. There's no use +starting till we have our sense of direction again." + +Rhoda raised her eyebrows. After all the fearful lessons, DeWitt had +not yet come to a full realization of the skill and resourcefulness of +Kut-le. The girl said nothing, however, but left the leadership to +DeWitt. The sun was setting, turning to clear red and pale lavender a +distant peak that then merged with the dusk, one could not tell when +nor how. Rhoda and DeWitt sat at the foot of an inhospitable crag +whose distant top, baring itself to the heavens, was a fearful climb +above them. + +Rhoda watched the sunset a little wistfully. She must impress on her +memory every one that she saw now. She felt that her days in the +desert were numbered. + +DeWitt shook his empty canteen. + +"It was mighty clever of you to bring a canteen. We've got to be +careful of the water question. Of course, I'm confident we will reach +camp this evening, but you can't be too careful of water anyhow. Lord! +Think of Jack Newman's face when we come strolling in! We ought to be +back at the ranch in five days." + +"Do you know it's going to be strange to talk with Katherine!" +exclaimed Rhoda. "She's a white woman, you know!" + +DeWitt took both of Rhoda's brown little hands in his. + +"I'm not appearing very sympathetic, sweetheart," he said. "But I'm so +crazy with joy at having you again and of finding you so well that I +don't know what I'm saying." + +"John," said Rhoda slowly, "I don't need any sympathy! I tell you that +this has been the most wonderful experience that ever came into my +life. I have suffered!" Her voice trembled and John's hold on her +hands tightened. "God only knows how I have suffered! But I have +learned things that were worth the misery!" + +DeWitt looked at her wide-eyed. + +"You're a wonder!" he exclaimed. + +Rhoda laughed softly. + +"You ought to hear the Indians' opinion of me! Do you know what I've +thought of lots of times lately? You know that place on the Hudson +where men go when they are nervous wrecks and the doctor cures them by +grilling them mentally and physically clear beyond endurance? Well, +that's the sort of cure I've had, except that I've had two doctors, the +Indian and the desert!" + +DeWitt answered slowly. + +"I don't quite see it! But I know one thing. You are about the gamest +little thoroughbred I ever heard of!" + +The moon was rising and DeWitt watched Rhoda as she sat with her hands +clasping her knee in the boyish attitude that had become a habit. + +"You are simply fascinating in those clothes, Rhoda. You are like a +beautiful slender boy in them." + +"They are very comfortable," said Rhoda, in such a sedate +matter-of-fact tone despite her blush that DeWitt chuckled. He threw +his arm across her shoulder and hugged her to him ecstatically. + +"Rhoda! Rhoda! You are the finest ever! I can't believe that this +terrible nightmare is over! And to think that instead of finding you +all but dead, you are a thousand times more fit than I am myself. +Rhoda, just think! You are going to live! To live! You will not be +my wife just for a few months, as we thought, but for years and years!" + +They stood in silence for a time, each one busy with the picture +DeWitt's words had conjured. Then DeWitt emptied the pipe he had been +smoking. + +"Yonder is our peak, by Jove! It looked just so in the moonlight last +night. I didn't recognize it by daylight. If you're rested, we'll +start now. You must be dead hungry! I know I am!" + +Refreshed and hopeful, they swung out into the wonder of the moonlit +desert. They soon settled to each other's pace and with the full moon +glowing in their faces they made for the distant peak. + +"Now," said John, "tell me the whole story!" + +So Rhoda, beginning with the moment of her abduction, told the story of +her wanderings, told it simply though omitting no detail. Nothing +could have been more dramatic than the quiet voice that now rose, now +fell with intensity of feeling. DeWitt did not interrupt her except +with a muttered exclamation now and again. + +"And the actual sickness was not the worst," Rhoda continued after +describing her experiences up to her sickness at Chira; "it was the +delirium of fear and anger. Kut-le forced me beyond the limit of my +strength. Night after night I was tied to the saddle and kept there +till I fainted. Then I was rested only enough to start again. And it +angered and frightened me so! I was so sick! I loathed them all +so--except Molly. But after Chira a change came. I got stronger than +I ever dreamed of being. And I began to understand Kut-le's methods. +He had realized that physically and mentally I was at the lowest ebb +and that only heroic measures could save me. He had the courage to +apply the measures." + +"God!" muttered John. + +Rhoda scarcely heeded him. + +"It was then that I began to see things that I could not see before and +to think thoughts that I could not have thought before. It was as if I +had climbed a mental peak that made my old highest ideals seem like +mere foothills!" + +The quiet voice led on and on, stopping at last with Porter's advent +that afternoon. Then Rhoda looked up into DeWitt's face. It was drawn +and tense. His eyes were black with feeling and his close-pressed lips +twitched. + +"Rhoda," he said at last, "I thought most of the savage had been +civilized out of me. But I tell you now that if ever I get a chance I +shall kill that Apache with my bare hands!" + +Rhoda laid her hand on DeWitt's arm. + +"Kut-le, after all, has done me only a great good, John!" + +"But think how he did it! The devil risked killing you! Think what +you and we all have suffered! God, Rhoda, think!" And DeWitt threw +his arm across his face with a sob that wrenched his shoulders. + +Inexpressibly touched, Rhoda stopped and drew John's face down to hers, +rubbing it softly with her velvet cheek. + +"There, dear, there! I can't bear to see you so! My poor tired boy! +You have all but killed yourself for me!" + +DeWitt lifted the slender little figure and held it tensely in his arms +a moment, then set her gently down. + +"A woman's magnanimity is a strange thing," he said. + +"Kut-le will suffer," said Rhoda. "He risked everything and has lost. +He has neither friends nor country now." + +"Much he cares," retorted DeWitt, "except for losing you!" + +Rhoda made no answer. She realized that it would take careful pleading +on her part to win freedom for Kut-le if ever he were caught. She +changed the subject. + +"Have you found living off the desert hard? I mean as far as food was +concerned?" + +"Food hasn't bothered us," answered John. "We've kept well supplied." + +Rhoda chuckled. + +"Then I can't tempt you to stop and have some roast mice with me?" + +"Thank you," answered DeWitt. "Try and control your yearning for them, +honey girl. We shall be at camp shortly and have some white man's +grub." + +"How long since you have eaten, John?" asked Rhoda. She had been +watching the tall fellow's difficult and slacking steps for some time. + +"Well, not since last night, to tell the truth. You see I was so +excited when I struck Porter's trail that I didn't go back to the camp. +I just hiked." + +"So you are faint with hunger," said Rhoda, "and your feet are +blistered, for you have done little tramping in the hot sand before +this. John, look at that peak! Are you sure it is the right one?" + +DeWitt stared long and perplexedly. + +"Rhoda girl," he said, "I don't believe it is, after all. I am the +blamedest tenderfoot! But don't you worry. We will find the camp. +It's right in this neighborhood." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE HEART'S OWN BITTERNESS + +"I'm not worrying," answered Rhoda stoutly, "except about you. You are +shaking with exhaustion while I am as fit as can be." + +"Oh, don't bother about me!" exclaimed John. "I'm just a little tired." + +But Rhoda was not to be put off. + +"How much did you sleep last night?" + +"Not much," admitted DeWitt. "I haven't been a heavy sleeper at times +ever since you disappeared, strange as that may seem!" Then he +grinned. It was pleasant to have Rhoda bully him. + +Yet the big fellow actually was sinking with weariness. The fearful +hardships that he had undergone had worked havoc with him. Now that +the agonizing nerve-strain was lifted he was going to pieces. He stood +wavering for a minute, then he slowly sat down in the sand. + +Rhoda stood beside him uncertainly and looked from the man to the +immovably distant mountain peak. She realized that, in stopping, the +risk of recapture was great, yet her desert experiences told her that +John must regain some of his strength before the sun caught them. She +had little faith that they would tumble upon the camp as easily as John +thought, and wanted to prepare for a day of desert heat. + +"If we were sure just where the camp lay," she said, "I would go on for +help. But as we aren't certain, I'm afraid to be separated from you, +John." + +John looked up fiercely with his haggard eyes. + +"Don't you dare to move six inches from me, Rhoda. It will kill me to +lose you now." + +"Of course I won't," said Rhoda. "I've had my lesson about losing +myself in the desert. But you must have some sleep before we go any +farther." + +Rhoda spoke with a cheerfulness she did not feel. She looked about for +a comfortable resting-place but the desert was barren. + +"There's no use trying to find a comfortable bed," she said. "You had +better lie down right where you are." + +"Honey," said John, "I've no idea of sleeping. It will be time enough +for that when we reach camp. But if you think you could stand guard +for just ten minutes I will lie flat in the sand and rest. You take my +watch and time me." + +"That's splendid!" said Rhoda, helping him to clear of rocks and cactus +a space long enough to lie in. + +"Just ten minutes," said DeWitt, and as he spoke he sank to sleep. + +Rhoda stood in the moonlight looking into the man's unconscious face. +His new-grown beard gave him a haggard look that was enhanced by the +dark circles under his eyes. That wan face touched Rhoda much more +than the healthy face of former days. The lines of weariness and pain +that never could be fully erased were all for her, she thought with a +little catch of her breath. Then with a pitying, affectionate look at +the sleeping man came a whimsical smile. Once she had thought no one +could equal John in physical vigor. Now she pictured Kut-le's panther +strength and endurance, and smiled. + +She looked at the watch. Five hours till dawn. She would let John +have the whole of that time in which to sleep. His ten minutes would +be worse than useless, while to find the camp after the moon had set +would be quite out of the question. Her own eyes were wide and +sleepless. She sat in the sand beside DeWitt until driven by the cold +to pace back and forth. John slept without stirring; the sleep of +complete exhaustion. Rhoda was not afraid, nor did she feel lonely. +The desert was hers now. There was no wind, but now and again the +cactus rustled as if unseen wings had brushed it. The dried heaps of +cholla stirred as if unseen paws had pressed them. From afar came the +demoniacal laughter of coyotes on their night hunts. But still Rhoda +was not afraid. + +At first, in the confusion of thoughts that the day's events had +crowded on her, her clearest sense was of thankfulness. Then she fell +to wondering what had happened to Porter and Kut-le. Suddenly she +caught her breath with a shiver. If Porter won there could be but one +answer as to Kut-le's fate. John's attitude of mind told that. Rhoda +twisted her hands together. + +"I will not have him killed!" she whispered. "No! No! I will not +have him killed!" + +For many minutes she paced back and forth, battling with her fears. +Then she suddenly recalled the fact that vengeance was to be saved for +John. This uncanny thought comforted her. She had little fear but +that she could manage John. + +And then in the utter silence of the desert night, staring at the +sinking moon, Rhoda asked herself why, when she should have been mad +with joy over her own rescue, she was giving all her thoughts to +Kut-le's plight! For a moment the question brought a flood of +confusion. Then, standing alone in the night beauty of the desert, the +girl acknowledged the truth that she had denied even to herself so +long. The young Indian's image returned to her endowed with all the +dignity of his remarkable physical perfection. She knew now that from +the first this physical beauty of his had had a strong appeal to her. +She knew now that all his unusual characteristics that at first had +seemed so strange to her were the ones that had drawn her to him. His +strange mental honesty, his courage, his brutal incisiveness, all had +fascinated her. All her days with him returned to her, days of +weakness, of anger, then the weeks on the ledge, and the day when she +had found the desert, and finally the day just past, to the very moment +when Billy Porter had come upon them on the ledge. + +Rhoda stood with unseeing eyes while before her inward vision passed a +magnificent panorama of the glories through which Kut-le had led her. +Chaos of mountain and desert, resplendent with color; cool, sweet depth +of cañon; burning height of tortured peak; slope of pungent piñon +forest--all wrapped in the haze which is the desert's own. + +Rhoda knew the truth; knew that she loved Kut-le! She knew that she +loved him with all the passionate devotion for which her rebirth had +given her the capacity. + +With this acknowledgment, all her calm was swept away. With fingers +clasped against her breast, with wide eyes on the brooding night, she +wished that she might tell him this that had come to her. If only once +more the inscrutable tenderness of his black eyes were upon her! If +the deep imperative voice were but sounding in her ears again! If only +she could feel now the touch of his powerful arms as he carried her the +long sick miles to Chira. Trembling with longing, her gaze fell upon +the man sleeping at her feet. She drew a sudden troubled breath. Must +she renounce this new rapture of living? Must she? + +"Have I found new life in the desert only to lose it?" she whispered. +"O Kut-le! Kut-le!" + +DeWitt slept on, unmoving, and Rhoda watched him with tragedy-stricken +eyes. + +"What shall I do!" she whispered, lips quivering, shaking hands +twisting together. "Oh, what shall I do!" + +She tried to picture a future with Kut-le. She saw his tenderness, his +purposefulness, the bigness of his mind and spirit. Then with a cold +clutch at her throat came the thought of race barrier, and in a moment +Rhoda was plunged into the oldest, the most hopeless, the least +solvable of all love's problems. Minute after minute went by and the +girl, standing by the sleeping man, fought a fight that shook her +slender body and racked her soul. At last she raised her face to the +sky. + +"I want to do what is right!" she said piteously. "It doesn't matter +about me, if only I can decide what is right!" Then after, a pause, "I +will marry John! I will!" like a child that has been punished and +promises to be good. Still another pause, then, "So that part of me is +dead!" and she put her fingers before her eyes and fell to crying, not +with the easy tears of a woman but with the deep, agonizing sobs of a +man over his dead. + +"Kut-le, I wanted you! I wanted you for my mate! If I could have +heard you, seen you, felt you once more! Nothing else would have +mattered. I wanted you!" + +A long hour passed in which Rhoda sat in the sand, limp and quiescent, +as though all but wrecked by the storm through which she had passed. +Dawn came at last. The air was pregnant with new hope, with a vague +uplifting of sense and being that told of the coming of a new day. The +east quivered with prismatic colors and suddenly the sun appeared. + +Rhoda rose and stooped over DeWitt to smooth the hair back from his +forehead. + +"Come," she said softly. "It's breakfast time!" + +DeWitt sat up bewildered. Then his senses returned. + +"Rhoda," he exclaimed, "what do you mean by this!" + +Rhoda's smile was a little wan. + +"You needed the rest and I didn't!" + +DeWitt rose and shook himself like a great dog, then looked at Rhoda +wonderingly. + +"And you don't look much done up! But you had no right to do such a +thing! I told you to give me ten minutes. I feel like a brute. Lie +down now and get a little sleep yourself." + +"Lie in the sun? Thank you, I'd rather push on to the camp and have +some breakfast. How do you feel?" + +"Much better! It was fine of you, dear, but it wasn't a fair deal." + +"I'll be good from now on!" said Rhoda meekly. "What would you like +for breakfast?" + +DeWitt looked about him. Already the desert was assuming its brazen +aspect. + +"Water will be enough for me," he answered, "and nothing else. I am +seriously considering a rigid diet for a time." + +They both drank sparingly of the water in Rhoda's canteen. + +"I have three shots in my Colt," said DeWitt, "but I want to save them +for an emergency. But if we don't strike camp pretty soon, I'll try to +pot a jack-rabbit." + +"We can eat desert mice," said Rhoda. "I know how to catch and cook +them!" + +"Heaven forbid!" ejaculated DeWitt. "Let's start on at once, if you're +not too tired." + +So they began the day cheerfully. As the morning wore on and they +found no trace of the camp, they began to watch the canteen carefully. +Gradually their thirst became so great that the desire for food was +quite secondary to it and they made no attempt to hunt for a rabbit. +They agreed toward noon to save the last few drops in the canteen until +they could no longer do without it. + +Hour after hour they toiled in the blinding heat, the strange deep blue +of the sky reflecting the brazen light of the desert. In their careful +avoiding of the mountain where they had rested at sunset the night +before, they gradually worked out into a wide barren space with dunes +and rock heaps interchanging. + +"This won't do at all," said Dewitt at last, wearily. "We had better +try for any old mountain at all in the hope of finding water." + +They stood panting, staring at the distant haze of a peak. Trackless +and tortuous, the way underfoot was incredibly difficult. Yet the +distances melted in ephemeral slopes as lovely in their tints as they +were accursed in their reality of cruelty. Rhoda, unaccustomed to day +travel, panted and gasped as they walked. But she held her own fairly +well, while DeWitt, sick and overstrained at the start, was failing +rapidly. + +"It's noon now," said John a little thickly. "You had better lie in +the shade of that rock for an hour." + +"You sleep too!" pleaded Rhoda. + +"I'm too hot to sleep. I'll wake you in an hour." + +When Rhoda awoke it was to see DeWitt leaning against the rock heap, +his lips swollen, his eyes uncertain. + +Weak and dizzy herself, she rose and laid her hand on John's, every +maternal instinct in her stirring and speaking in her gray eyes. + +"Come, dear boy, we mustn't give up so easily." + +John lifted the little hand to his cheek. + +"I won't give up," he said uncertainly. "I'll take care of you, honey +girl!" + +"Come on, then!" said Rhoda. "You see that queer bunch of cholla +yonder? Let's get as far as that before we stop again!" + +With a great effort, DeWitt gathered himself together and, fixing his +eyes on the fantastic cactus growth, he plodded desperately through the +sand. At the cholla bunch, Rhoda pointed to a jutting lavender rock. + +"At that we'll rest for a minute. Come on, John!" + +John's sick eyes did not waver but his trembling legs described many +circles in their journey to the jutting rock. Distances were so many +times what they seemed that Rhoda's little scheme carried them over a +mile of desert before DeWitt sank to his knees. + +"I'm a sick man," he said huskily as he fell in a limp heap. + +Nothing could have appeared more opportunely than this new hardship to +take Rhoda's mind off her misery of the night. Nothing could have +brought John so near to her as this utter helplessness brought about +through his toiling for her. She looked at him with tears of pity in +her eyes, while her heart sank with fright. She knew the terrible +danger that menaced them. But she closed her lips firmly and looked +thoughtfully at the mite of water that remained to them. Then she held +the canteen to DeWitt's lips. He pushed it away from him and in +another moment or so he rose. + +Rhoda, fastening their hopes to another distant cholla, led the way on +again. But she too was growing a little light-headed. The distant +cactus danced grotesquely and black spots flitted between her and the +molten iron over which, her fancy said they traveled. Suddenly she +laughed crazily: + + "'Twas brillig, and the slythy toves + Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; + All mimsy were the borogoves, + And the mome raths outgrabe!" + +DeWitt laughed hoarsely. + +"That's just the way it looks to me, Rhoda. But you're just as crazy +as I am." + +Rhoda jerked herself together and tried to moisten her lips with her +swollen tongue. + +"We must take it turn about. When you are crazy I must try to be sane!" + +"Good idea!" croaked DeWitt, "only I'm crazy all the time!" + + "'O frabjous day! Calloo! Collay! + He chortled in his joy!'" + +Rhoda patted his hand. + +"Poor John! Oh, my poor John! I was not worth all this. You may not +have an Apache's strength, but your heart is right!" Two great tears +rolled down her cheeks. + +DeWitt looked at her seriously. + +"You aren't as dry as I am. I haven't enough moisture in me to moisten +my eyeballs, let alone cry! I am so cracked and dry that you will have +to soak me in the first spring we come to before I'll hold water." + +Rhoda laughed weakly and John turned away with a hurt look. + +"It's not a joke!" he said. + +How long they were, in their staggering, circuitous course, in reaching +their goal of cholla, Rhoda never knew. She knew that each heavy foot, +tingling and scorched, seemed to drag her back a step for every one +that she took forward. She knew that she repeatedly offered the last +of their water to John and that he repeatedly refused it, urging it on +her. She knew that the pulp of the barrel cactus that she tried to +chew turned to bitter sawdust in her mouth and sickened her. Then +suddenly, as she struggled to refocus her wandering wits on the cholla, +it appeared within touch of her hand. + +Afraid to pause, she adopted a new goal in a far mesa, and clutching +DeWitt's unresponsive fingers she struggled forward. + +And so on and on toward a never nearing goal; now falling, now rising, +now pausing to strive to hush Dewitt's cracked voice that wandered +aimlessly through all the changes of verse that seemed to his delirium +appropriate to the occasion. It seemed to Rhoda that her own brain was +reeling as she watched the illimitable space through which they moved. +John's voice did not cease. + + "Alone! Alone! All, all, alone! + Alone on a wide, wide sea! + So lonely 'twas that God himself, + Scarce seemed there to be!" + +"Hush, John! Hush!" pleaded Rhoda. + + "Alone! Alone! All, all alone!" + +repeated the croaking voice. + +"But I'm with you, John!" Rhoda pleaded, but DeWitt rambled on +unheeding. + +The way grew indescribably rough. The desert floor became a series of +sand dunes, a rise and fall of sea-like billows over which they climbed +like ants over a new-plowed field. In the hollow of each wave they +rested, sinking in the sand, where, breathless and scorching, the air +scintillated above their motionless forms. At the crest of each they +rested again, the desert wind hurtling the hot sand against their +parched skins. Frequently John refused to rise and Rhoda in her half +delirium would sink beside him until the mist lifted from her brain and +once more the distant mesa forced itself upon her vision. + +"Come, John, we will soon be there. We can't keep on this way forever +and not reach some place. Please come, dear!" + +"'He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside +still waters. He restoreth my soul--'" + +"Perhaps there will be water there! O John, dear John, if you love me, +come!" + +"I don't love you, little boy! I love Rhoda Tuttle. + + "O for a draught of vintage that hath been + Cooled a long age in deep delved earth!" + +"Please, John! I'm so sick!" + +The man, after two or three attempts, staggered to his feet and stood +swaying. + +"God help me!" he said. "I can do no more!" + +"Yes, you can, John! Yes, you can! Perhaps there is a whole fountain +of water there on the mesa!" + +The glazed look returned to DeWitt's eyes. + +"'Or the pitcher be broken at the fountain,'" he muttered, "'or the +wheel broken at the cistern--or the pitcher broken at the fountain, or +the wheel--'" + +Rhoda threw her arm across her eyes. + +"Oh, not that, John! I can't bear that one!" + +Again, she stood upon the roof at Chira, looking up into Kut-le's face. +Again the low wailing of the Indian women and the indescribable depth +and hunger of those dear black eyes. Again the sense of protection and +content in his nearness. + +"O Kut-le! Kut-le!" she moaned. + +Instantly sanity returned to John's eyes. + +"Why did you say Kut-le?" he demanded thickly. + +"Were you thinking of him?" + +"Yes," answered Rhoda simply. "Come on, John!" + +DeWitt struggled on bravely to the crest of the next dune. + +"I hate that Apache devil!" he muttered. "I am going to kill him!" + +Rhoda quickly saw the magic of Kut-le's name. + +"Why should you want to kill Kut-le?" she asked as Dewitt paused at the +top of the next dune. Instantly he started on. + +"Because I hate him! I hate him, the devil!" + +"See how near the mesa is, John! Only a little way! Kut-le would say +we were poor stuff!" + +"No doubt! Well, I'll let a gun give him my opinion of him!" + +The sand dunes had indeed beaten themselves out against the wall of a +giant mesa. Rhoda followed blindly along the wall and stumbled upon a +precipitous trail leading upward. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE FORGOTTEN CITY + +Up this tortuous trail Rhoda staggered, closely followed by DeWitt. At +a level spot the girl paused. + +"Water, John! Water!" she cried. + +The two threw themselves down and drank of the bubbling spring until +they could hold no more. Then Rhoda lay down on the sun-warmed rocks +and sleep overwhelmed her. + +She opened her eyes to stare into a yellow moon that floated liquidly +above her. Whether she had slept through a night and a day or whether +but a few hours had elapsed since she had staggered to the spring +beside which she lay, she could not tell. She lay looking up into the +sky languidly, but with clear mind. A deep sigh roused her. DeWitt +sat on the other side of the spring, rubbing his eyes. + +"Hello!" he said in a hoarse croak. "How did we land here?" + +"I led us here sometime in past ages. When or how, _quién sabe_?" +answered Rhoda. "John, we must find food somehow." + +"Drink all the water you can, Rhoda." said DeWitt; "it helps some, and +I'll pot a rabbit. What a fool I am. You poor girl! More hardships +for you!" + +Rhoda dipped her burning face into the water, then lifted it, dripping. + +"If only you won't be delirious, John, I can stand the hardships." + +DeWitt looked at the girl curiously. + +"Was I delirious? And you were alone, leading me across that Hades out +there? Rhoda dear, you make me ashamed of myself!" + +"I don't see how you were to blame," answered Rhoda stoutly. "Think +what you have been doing for me!" + +John rose stiffly. + +"Do you feel equal to climbing this trail with me, to find where we +are, or had you rather stay here?" + +"I don't want to stay here alone," answered Rhoda. + +Very slowly and weakly they started up the trail. The spring was on a +broad stone terrace. Above it rose another terrace weathered and +disrupted until in the moonlight it looked like an impregnable castle +wall, embattled and embuttressed. But clinging to the seemingly +invulnerable fortress was the trail, a snake-like shadow in the +moonlight. + +"Perhaps we had better stay at the spring until morning," suggested +Rhoda, her weak legs flagging. + +"Not with the hope of shelter a hundred feet above us," answered John +firmly. "This trail is worn six inches into the solid rock. My guess +is that there are some inhabitants here. It's queer that they haven't +discovered us." + +Slowly and without further protest, Rhoda followed DeWitt up the trail. +Deep-worn and smooth though it was, they accomplished their task with +infinite difficulty. Rhoda, stumbling like a sleep-sodden child, +wondered if ever again she was to accomplish physical feats with the +magical ease with which Kut-le had endowed her. + +"If he were here, I'd know I was to tumble into a comfortable camp," +she thought. Then with a remorseful glance at DeWitt's patient back, +"What a selfish beast you are, Rhoda Tuttle!" + +She reached John's side and together they paused at the top of the +trail. Black against the sky, the moon crowning its top with a +frost-like radiance, was a huge flat-topped building. Night birds +circled about it. From black openings in its front owls hooted. But +otherwise there was neither sight nor sound of living thing. The +desert far below and beyond lay like a sea of death. Rhoda +unconsciously drew nearer to DeWitt. + +"Where are the dogs? At Chira the dogs barked all night. Indians +always have dogs!" + +"It must be very late," whispered DeWitt. "Even the dogs are asleep!" + +"And at Chira," went on Rhoda, whispering as did DeWitt, "owls didn't +hoot from the windows." + +"Let's go closer," suggested John. + +Rhoda thrust cold little fingers into his hand. + +The doors were empty and forlorn. The terraced walls, built with the +patient labor of the long ago, were sagged and decayed. Riot of +greasewood crowned great heaps of débris. A loneliness as of the end +of the world came upon the two wanderers. Sick and dismayed, they +stood in awe before this relic of the past. + +"_Whoo_! _Whoo_!" an owl's cry sounded from the black window openings. + +DeWitt spoke softly. + +"Rhoda, it's one of the forgotten cities!" + +"Let's go back! Let's go back to the spring!" pleaded Rhoda. "It is +so uncanny in the dark!" + +"No!" DeWitt rubbed his aching head wearily. "I must contrive some +sort of shelter for you. Almost anything is better than another night +in the open desert. Come on! We will explore a little." + +"Let's wait till morning," begged Rhoda. "I'm so cold and shivery." + +"Dear sweetheart, that's just the point. You will be sick if you don't +have some sort of shelter. You have suffered enough. Will you sit +here and let me look about?" + +"No! No! I don't want to be left alone." + +Rhoda followed John closely up into the mass of fallen rock. + +DeWitt smiled. It appealed to the tenderest part of his nature that +the girl who had led him through the terrible experiences of the desert +should show fear now that a haven was reached. + +"Come on, little girl," he said. + +Painfully, for they both were weak and dizzy, they clambered to a gaunt +opening in the gray wall. Rhoda clutched John's arm with a little +scream as a bat whirred close by them. Within the opening DeWitt +scratched one of his carefully hoarded matches. The tiny flare +revealed a small adobe-walled room, quite bare save for broken bits of +pottery on the floor. John lighted a handful of greasewood and by its +brilliant light they examined the floor and walls. + +"What a clean, dry little room!" exclaimed Rhoda. "Oh, I am so tired +and sleepy!" + +"Let's look a little farther before we stop. What's on the other side +of this broken wall?" + +They picked their way across the litter of pottery and peered into +another room, the duplicate of the first. + +"How will these do for our respective sleeping-rooms?" asked DeWitt. + +Rhoda stared at John with horror in her eyes. + +"I'd as soon sleep in a tomb! Let's make a fire outside and sleep +under the stars. I'd rather have sleep than food just now." + +"It will have to be just a tiny smudge, up behind this débris, where +Kut-le can't spot it," answered DeWitt. "I won't mind having a red eye +of fire for company. It will help to keep me awake." + +"But you must sleep," protested Rhoda. + +"But I mustn't," answered John grimly. "I've played the baby act on +this picnic as much as I propose to. It is my trick at the wheel." + +Too weary to protest further, Rhoda threw herself down with her feet +toward the fire and pillowed her head on her arm. DeWitt filled his +pipe and sat puffing it, with his arms folded across his knees. Rhoda +watched him for a moment or two. She found herself admiring the full +forehead, the lines of refinement about the lips that the beard could +not fully conceal. + +"He's not as handsome as Kut-le," she thought wearily, "but +he's--he's--" but before her thought was completed she was asleep. + +Rhoda woke at dawn and lay waiting for the stir of the squaws about the +morning meal. Then with a start she rose and looked soberly about her. +Suddenly she smiled. + +"Tenderfoot!" she murmured. + +DeWitt lay fast asleep by the ashes of the fire. + +"If Kut-le," she thought. Then she stopped abruptly and stamped her +foot. "You are not even to think of Kut-le any more!" And with her +cleft chin very firm she descended the trail to the spring. When she +returned, DeWitt was rising stiffly to his feet. + +"Hello!" he cried. "I was good this time. I never closed my eyes till +dawn. I'm so hungry I could eat greasewood. How do you feel?" + +"Weak with hunger but otherwise very well. Go wash your face, Johnny." + +DeWitt grinned and started down the trail obediently. But Rhoda laid a +detaining hand on his arm. The sun was but a moment high. All the +mesa front lay in purple shadows, though farther out the desert glowed +with the yellow light of a new day. + +"I think animals come to the spring to drink," said Rhoda. "There were +tiny wet footmarks there when I went down to wash my face." + +"Bully!" exclaimed John. "Wait now, let's watch." + +The two dropped to the ground and peered over the edge of the upper +terrace. The spring bubbled forth serenely, followed its shallow +trough a short distance, then disappeared into the insatiable floor of +the desert. For several moments the two lay watching until at last +Rhoda grew restless. DeWitt laid a detaining hand on her arm. + +"Hush!" he whispered. + +A pair of jack-rabbits loped up the trail, sniffed the air tentatively, +then with forelegs in the water drank greedily. DeWitt's right arm +stiffened, there were two puffs of smoke and the two kicking rabbits +rolled into the spring. + +"I'm beginning to have a little self-respect as the man of the party," +said DeWitt, as he blew the smoke from his Colt. + +Rhoda ran down to the spring and lifted the two wet little bodies. +John took them from her. + +"If you'll find some place for a table, I'll bring these up in no time." + +When DeWitt came up from the spring with the dressed rabbits, he found +a little fire glowing between two rocks. Near by on a big flat-topped +stone were set forth two earthen bowls, with a brown water-jar in the +center. As he stared, Rhoda came out of the building with interested +face. + +"Look, John! See what I found on a little corner shelf!" She held in +her outstretched hand a tiny jar no bigger than a wine-glass. It was +of an exquisitely polished black. "Not even an explorer can have been +here, or nothing so perfect as this would have been left! What hands +do you suppose made this!" + +But DeWitt did not answer her question. + +"Now, look here, Rhoda, you aren't to do anything like starting a fire +and lugging these heavy jars again! You're not with the Indians now. +You've got a man to wait on you!" + +Rhoda looked at him curiously. + +"But I've learned to like to do it!" she protested. "Nobody can roast +a rabbit to suit me but myself," and in spite of DeWitt's protests she +spitted the rabbits and would not let him tend the fire which she said +was too fine an art for his untrained hands. In a short time the rich +odor of roasting flesh rose on the air and John watched the pretty cook +with admiration mingled with perplexity. Rhoda insisting on cooking a +meal! More than that, Rhoda evidently enjoying the job! The idea left +him speechless. + +An hour after Rhoda had spitted the game, John sighed with contentment +as he looked at the pile of bones beside his earthen bowl. + +"And they say jacks aren't good eating!" he said. "Why if they had +been salted they would have been better than any game I ever ate!" + +"You never were so hungry before," said Rhoda. "Still, they were well +roasted, now weren't they?" + +"Your vanity is colossal, Miss Tuttle," laughed John, "but I will admit +that I never saw better roasting." Then he said soberly, "I believe we +had better not try the trail again today, Rhoda dear. We don't know +where to go and we've no supplies. We'd better get our strength up, +resting here today, and tomorrow start in good shape." + +Rhoda looked wistfully from the shade of the pueblo out over the +desert. She had become very, very tired of this endless fleeing. + +"I wish the Newman ranch was just over beyond," she said. "John, what +will you do if Kut-le comes on us here?" + +DeWitt's forehead burned a painful red. + +"I have a shot left in my revolver," he said. + +Rhoda walked ever to John and put one hand on his shoulder as he sat +looking up at her with somber blue eyes. + +"John," she said, "I want you to promise me that you will fire at +Kut-le only in the last extremity to keep him from carrying me off, and +that you will shoot only as Porter did, to lame and not to kill." + +John's jaws came together and he returned the girl's scrutiny with a +steel-like glance. + +"Why do you plead for him?" he asked finally. + +"He saved my life," she answered simply. + +John rose and walked up and down restlessly. + +"Rhoda, if a white man had done this thing I would shoot him as I would +a dog. What do I care for a law in a case like this! We were men long +before we had laws. Why should this Indian be let go when he has done +what a white would be shot for?" + +Rhoda looked at him keenly. + +"You talk as if in your heart you knew you were going to kill him +because he is an Indian and were trying to justify yourself for it!" + +He turned on the girl a look so haunted, so miserable, yet so +determined, that her heart sank. For a time there was silence, each +afraid to speak. At last Rhoda said coolly: + +"Will you get fresh water while I bank in the fire?" + +DeWitt's face relaxed. He smiled a little grimly. + +"I'll do anything for you but that one thing--promise not to kill the +Indian." + +"The desert has changed us both, John," said Rhoda. "It has taken the +veneer off both of us!" + +"Maybe so," replied DeWitt. "I only know that that Apache must pay for +the hell you and I have lived through." + +"Look at me, John!" cried Rhoda. "Can't you realize that the good +Kut-le has done me has been far greater than his affront to me? Do you +see how well I am, how strong? Oh, if I could only make you see what a +different world I live in! You would have been tied to an invalid, +John, if Kut-le hadn't stolen me! Think now of all I can do for you! +Of the home I can make, of the work I can do!" + +DeWitt answered tersely. + +"I'm mighty glad you're well, but only for your own sake and because I +can have you longer. I don't want you to work for me. I'll do all the +working that's done in our family!" + +"But," protested Rhoda, "that's just keeping me lazy and selfish!" + +"You couldn't be selfish if you tried. You pay your way with your +beauty. When I think of that Apache devil having the joy of you all +this time, watching you grow back to health, taking care of you, +carrying you, it makes me feel like a cave man. I could kill him with +a club! Thank heaven, the lynch law can hold in this forsaken spot! +And there isn't a man in the country but will back me up, not a jury +that would find me guilty!" + +Rhoda sat in utter consternation. The power of the desert to lay bare +the human soul appalled her. This was a DeWitt that the East never +could have shown her. It sickened her as she realized that no words of +hers could sway this man; to realize that she was trying to stay with +her feeble feminine hands passions that were as old a world-force as +love itself. All her new-found strength seemed inadequate to solve +this new problem. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE TRAIL AGAIN + +For a long time Rhoda sat silently considering her problem and John +watched her soberly. Finally she turned to speak. As she did so, she +caught on the young man's face a look so weary, so puzzled, so +altogether wretched that the girl's heart smote her. This was indeed a +poor return for what he had endured for her! Rhoda jumped to her feet +with resolution in her eyes. "Are you too tired to explore the ruins?" +she asked. DeWitt rose languidly. Rhoda had responded at once to rest +and food but John would need a month of care and quiet in which to +regain his strength. + +"I'll do anything you want me to--in that line!" + +Rhoda carefully ignored the last phrase. + +"Even if we're half dead, it's too bad to miss the opportunity to +examine such a wonderful thing as this. You couldn't find as glorious +a setting for a ruin anywhere in Europe." + +"Oh, yes, you could; lots of 'em," answered DeWitt. "You can't compare +a ruin like this with anything in Europe. What makes European ruins +appeal to us is not only their intrinsic beauty but the association of +big ideas with them. We know that big thoughts built them and perhaps +destroyed them." + +"What do you call big thoughts?" asked Rhoda. "Wasn't it just as great +for these Pueblo Indians to perform such terrible labor in building +this for their families as it was for some old king to work thousands +of slaves to death to build him a monument?" + +DeWitt laughed. + +"Rhoda, you can love the desert, its Indians and its ruins all you want +to, if you won't ask me to! I've had all I want of the three of them! +Lord, how I hate it all!" + +Rhoda looked at him wistfully. If only he could understand the +spiritual change in her that was even greater than the physical! If +only he could see the beauty of those far lavender hazes! If only he +could understand how even now she was heartsick for the night trail +where one looked up into the sky as into a shadowy opal! If only he +knew the peace that had dwelt with her on the holiday ledge where there +were tints and beauties too deep for words! And yet with the +wistfulness came a strange sense of satisfaction that all this new part +of her must belong forever to Kut-le. + +John led the way into the dwelling. All was emptiness and ruin. All +that remained of the old life within its walls were wonderful bits of +pottery. Only once did DeWitt give evidence of pleasure. He was +examining the carefully finished walls of one of the rooms when he +called: + +"I say, Rhoda, just look at this bit of humanness!" + +Rhoda came to him quickly and he pointed low down on the adobe wall +where was the perfect imprint of a baby's hand. + +"The little rascal got spanked, I'll bet, for putting his hand on the +'dobe before it was dry!" commented John. + +Rhoda smiled but said nothing. These departed peoples had become very +real and very pitiable to her. + +As soon as he could drag Rhoda from the ancient pots, John led the way +to the top of the ruin. He was anxious to find if there were more than +the one trail leading from the desert. To his great satisfaction he +found that the mesa was unscalable except at the point that Rhoda had +found as she staggered up from the desert. + +"I'm going to guard that trail tonight," he said. "It's just possible, +you know, that Kut-le escaped from Porter, though I think if he had he +would have been upon us long before this. I've been mighty careless. +But my brain is so tired it seems to have been off duty. I could hold +that trail single-handed from the upper terrace for a week." + +"Just remember," said Rhoda quickly, "that I've asked you not to shoot +to kill!" + +Again the hard light gleamed in DeWitt's eyes. + +"I shall have a few words with him first, then I shall shoot to kill. +There is that between that Indian and me which a woman evidently can't +understand. I just can't see why you take the stand you do!" + +"John dear," cried Rhoda, "put yourself in his place. With all the +race prejudice against you that he had, wouldn't you have done as he +has?" + +"Probably," answered Dewitt calmly. "I also would have expected what +he is going to get." + +A sudden sense of the bizarre nature of their conversation caused Rhoda +to say comically: + +"I never knew that you could have such _bloody_ ideas, John!" + +DeWitt was glad to turn the conversation. + +"I am so only occasionally," he said. "For instance, instead of +shooting the rabbit for supper, I'm going to try a figure-four trap." + +They returned to their little camp on the upper terrace and Rhoda sat +with wistful gray eyes fastened on the desert while John busied himself +with the trap-making. He worked with the skill of his country boyhood +and the trap was cleverly finished. + +"It's evident that I'm not the leader of the expedition any more," said +Rhoda, looking at the trap admiringly. + +John shook his head. + +"I've lost my faith in myself as a hero. It's one thing to read of the +desert and think how well you could have managed there, and another +thing to be on the spot!" + +The day passed slowly. As night drew on the two on the mesa top grew +more and more anxious. There was little doubt but that they could live +for a number of days at the old pueblo, yet it was evident that the +ruin was far from any traveled trail and that chances of discovery were +slight except by Kut-le. On the other hand, they were absolutely +unprepared for a walking trip across the desert. Troubled and +uncertain what to do, they watched the wonder of the sunset. Deeper, +richer, more divine grew the colors of the desert, and in one supreme, +flaming glory the sun sank from view. + +DeWitt with his arm across Rhoda's shoulders spoke anxiously. + +"Don't you still think we'd better start tomorrow?" + +"Yes," she answered, "I suppose so. What direction shall we take?" + +"East," replied DeWitt. "We're bound to strike help if we can keep +going long enough in one direction. We'll cook a good supply of +rabbits and I'll fix up one of those bowl-like ollas with my +handkerchief, so we can carry water in it as well as in the two +canteens. I think you had better sleep in the little room there +tonight and I'll lie across the end of the trail here." + +Rhoda sighed. + +"I've nothing better to suggest. As you say, it's all guesswork!" + +They set the rabbit trap by the spring, then Rhoda, quite recovered +from her nervousness of the night before, entered her little +sleeping-room and made ready for the night. The front of the room had +so crumbled away that she could see John's dark form by the trail, and +she lay down with a sense of security and fell asleep at once. + +John paced the terrace for a long hour after Rhoda was asleep, trying +to plan every detail for the morrow. He dared not confess even to +himself how utterly disheartened he felt in the face of this terrible +adversary, the desert. Finally, realizing that he must have rest if +Rhoda was not to repeat her previous experience in leading him across +the desert he stretched himself on the ground across the head of the +trail. He must trust to his nervousness to make him sleep lightly. + +How long she had slept Rhoda did not know when she was wakened by a +half-muffled oath from DeWitt. She jumped to her feet and ran out to +the terrace. Never while life remained to her was she to forget what +she saw there. DeWitt and Kut-le were wrestling in each other's grip! +Rhoda stood horrified. As the two men twisted about, DeWitt saw the +girl and panted: + +"Don't stir, Rhoda! Don't call or you'll have his whole bunch up here!" + +"Don't worry about that!" exclaimed Kut-le. "You've been wanting to +get hold of me. Now we'll fight it out bare-handed and the best man +wins." + +Rhoda looked wildly down the trail, then ran up to the two men. + +"Stop!" she screamed. "Stop!" Then as she caught the look in the +men's faces as they glared at each other she cried, "I hate you both, +you beasts!" + +Her screams carried far in the night air, for in a moment Cesca came +panting up the trail. She lunged at DeWitt with catlike fury, but at a +sharp word from Kut-le she turned to Rhoda and stood guard beside the +girl. Rhoda stood helplessly watching the battle as one watches the +horrors of a nightmare. + +Kut-le and DeWitt now were fighting as two wolves fight. Both the men +were trained wrestlers, but in their fury all their scientific training +was forgotten, and rolling over and over on the rocky trail each fought +for a hold on the other's throat. With Kut-le was the advantage of +perfect condition and superior strength. But DeWitt was fighting for +his stolen mate. He was fighting like a cave man who has brooded for +months on his revenge, and he was a terrible adversary. He had the +sudden strength, the fearful recklessness of a madman. Now rolling on +the edge of the terrace, now high against the crumbling pueblo, the +savage and the civilized creature dragged each other back and forth. +And Rhoda, awed by this display of passions, stood like the First Woman +and waited! + +Of a sudden Kut-le disentangled himself and with knees on DeWitt's +shoulders he clutched at the white man's throat. At the same time, +DeWitt gathered together his recumbent body and with a mighty heave he +flung Kut-le over his head. Rhoda gave a little cry, thinking the +fight was ended; but as Kut-le gained his feet, DeWitt sprang to meet +him and the struggle was renewed. Rhoda never had dreamed of a sight +so sickening as this of the two men she knew so well fighting for each +other's throats with the animal's lust for killing. She did not know +what would be Kut-le's course if he gained the mastery, but as she +caught glimpses of DeWitt's face with its clenched teeth and terrible +look of loathing she knew that if his fingers ever reached Kut-le's +throat the Indian could hope for no mercy. + +And then she saw DeWitt's face go white and his head drop back. + +"Oh!" she screamed. "You've killed him! You've killed him!" + +The Indian's voice came in jerks as he eased DeWitt to the ground. + +"He's just fainted. He's put up a tremendous fight for a man in his +condition!" + +As he spoke he was tying DeWitt's hands and ankles with his own and +DeWitt's handkerchiefs. Rhoda would have run to DeWitt's aid but +Cesca's hand was tight on her arm. Before the girl could plan any +action, Kut-le had turned to her and had lifted her in his arms. She +fought him wildly. + +"I can't leave him so, Kut-le! You will kill all I've learned to feel +for you if you leave him so!" + +"He'll be all right!" panted Kut-le, running down the trail. "I've got +Billy Porter down here to leave with him!" + +At the foot of the trail were horses. Gagged and bound to his saddle +Billy Porter sat in the moonlight with Molly on guard. Kut-le put +Rhoda on a horse, then quickly thrust Porter to the ground, where the +man sat helplessly. + +"Oh, Billy!" cried Rhoda. "John is on the terrace! Find him! Help +him!" + +The last words were spoken as Kut-le turned her horse and led at a trot +into the desert. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE RUINED MISSION + +Rhoda was so confused that for a moment she could only ease herself to +the pony's swift canter and wonder if her encounter with DeWitt had +been but a dream after all. A short distance from the pueblo Kut-le +rode in beside her. It was very dark, with the heavy blackness that +just precedes the dawn, but Rhoda felt that the Indian was looking at +her exultingly. + +"It seemed as if I never would get Alchise and Injun Tom moved to a +friend's _campos_ so that I could overtake you. I will say that that +fellow Porter is game to the finish. It took me an hour to subdue him! +Now, don't worry about the two of them. With a little work they can +loose themselves and help each other to safety. I saw Newman's trail +ten miles or so over beyond the pueblo mesa and I told Porter just how +to go to pick him up." + +Rhoda laughed hysterically. + +"No wonder you have such a hold on your Indians! You seem never to +fail! I do believe as much of it is luck as ingenuity!" + +Kut-le chuckled. + +"What a jolt DeWitt will find when he comes to, and finds Porter!" + +"You needn't gloat over the situation, Kut-le!" exclaimed Rhoda, half +sobbing in her conflict of emotions. + +"Oh, you mustn't mind anything I say," returned the young Indian. "I +am crazy with joy at just hearing your voice again! Are you really +sorry to be with me again? Did DeWitt mean as much to you as ever? +Tell me, Rhoda! Say just one kindly thing to me!" + +"O Kut-le," cried Rhoda, "I can't! I can't! You must help me to be +strong! You--who are the strongest person that I know! Can't you put +yourself in my place and realize what a horrible position I am in?" + +Kut-le answered slowly. + +"I guess I can realize it. But the end is so great, so much worth +while that nothing before that matters much, to me! Rhoda, isn't this +good--the lift of the horse under your knees--the air rushing past your +face--the weave and twist of the trail--don't they speak to you and +doesn't your heart answer?" + +"Yes," answered Rhoda simply. + +The young Indian rode still closer. Dawn was lifting now, and with a +gasp Rhoda saw what she had been too agonized to heed on the terrace in +the moonlight. Kut-le was clothed again! He wore the khaki suit, the +high-laced riding boots of the ranch days; and he wore them with the +grace, the debonair ease that had so charmed Rhoda in young Cartwell. +That little sense of his difference that his Indian nakedness had kept +in Rhoda's subconsciousness disappeared. She stared at his broad, +graceful shoulders, at the fine outline of his head which still was +bare, and she knew that her decision was going to be indescribably +difficult to keep. Kut-le watched the wistful gray eyes tenderly, as +if he realized the depth of anguish behind their wistfulness; yet he +watched none the less resolutely, as if he had no qualms over the +outcome of his plans. And Rhoda, returning his gaze, caught the depth +and splendor of his eyes. And that wordless joy of life whose thrill +had touched her the first time that she had met young Cartwell rushed +through her veins once more. He was the youth, the splendor, the vivid +wholesomeness of the desert! He was the heart itself, of the desert. + +Kut-le laid his hand on hers. + +"Rhoda," softly, "do you remember the moment before Porter interrupted +us? Ah, dear one, you will have to prove much to erase the truth of +that moment from our hearts! How much longer must I wait for you, +Rhoda?" + +Rhoda did not speak, but as she returned the young man's gaze there +came her rare slow smile of unspeakable beauty and tenderness. Kut-le +trembled; but before he could speak Rhoda seemed to see between his +face and hers, DeWitt, haggard and exhausted, expending the last +remnant of his strength in his fight for her. She put her hands before +her face with a little sob. + +Kut-le watched her in silence for a moment, then he said in his low +rich voice: + +"Neither DeWitt nor I want you to suffer over your decision. And +DeWitt doesn't want just the shell of you. I have the real you! O +Rhoda, the real you will belong to me if you are seven times DeWitt's +wife! Can't you realize that forever and ever you are mine, no matter +how you fight or what you do?" + +But Rhoda scarcely heard him. She was with DeWitt, struggling across +the parching sands. + +"O Kut-le! Kut-le! What shall I do! What shall I do!" + +Kut-le started to answer, then changed his mind. + +"You poor, tired little girl," he said. "You have had a fierce time +there in the desert. You look exhausted. What did you have to eat and +how did you make out crossing to the mesa? By your trail you went +miles out of your way." + +Rhoda struggled for calm. + +"We nearly died the first day," she said. "But we did very well after +we reached the mesa." + +Kut-le smiled to himself. It was hard even for him to realize that +this plucky girl who passed so simply over such an ordeal as he knew +she must have endured could be the Rhoda of the ranch. But he said +only: + +"We'll make for the timber line and let you rest for a while." + +At mid-morning they left the desert and began to climb a rough mountain +slope. At the piñon line, Kut-le called a halt. Never before had +shade seemed so good to Rhoda as it did now. She lay on the +pine-needles looking up into the soft green. It was unspeakably +grateful to her eyes which had been so long tortured by the desert +glare. She lay thus for a long time, her mental pain for a while lost +in the access of physical comfort. Shortly Molly, who had been working +rapidly, brought her a steaming bowl of stew. Rhoda ate this, then +with her head pillowed on her arm she fell asleep. + +She was wakened by Molly's touch on her arm. It was late afternoon. +Rhoda looked up into the squaw's face and drew a quick hard breath as +realization came to her. + +"Molly! Molly!" she cried. "I'm in terrible, terrible trouble, Molly!" + +The squaw looked worried. + +"You no go away! Kut-le heap sorry while you gone!" + +But Rhoda scarcely heeded the woman's voice. She rolled over with her +hot face in the fragrant needles and groaned. + +"O Molly! Molly! I'm in terrible trouble!" + +"What trouble? You tell old Molly!" + +Rhoda sat up and stared into the deep brown eyes. Just as Kut-le had +become to her the splendor of the desert, so had Molly become the +brooding wisdom of the desert. With sudden inspiration she grasped the +Indian woman's toil-scarred hands. + +"Listen, Molly! Before I knew Kut-le, I was going to marry the white +man, DeWitt. And after he stole me I hated Kut-le and I hated the +desert. And now, O Molly, I love both Kut-le and the desert, and I +must marry the white man!" + +"Why? You tell Molly why?" + +"Because he is white, Molly, like me. Because he loves me so and has +done so much for me! But most of all because he is white!" + +Molly scowled. + +"Because Kut-le is Injun, you no marry him?" + +Rhoda nodded miserably. + +"Huh! And you think you so big, Kut-le so big that Great Spirit care +if you marry white, marry Injun. All Great Spirit care is for every +squaw to have papoose. Squaw, she big fool to listen to her head. +Squaw, she must always listen to her heart, that is Great Spirit +talking. Your heart, it say marry Kut-le!" + +Molly paused and looked at the girl, who sat with stormy eyes on the +sinking sun. And she forgot her hard-earned wisdom and was just a +heart-hungry woman. + +"You stay! Stay with Kut-le and old Molly! You so sweet! You like +little childs! You lie in old Molly's heart like little girl papoose +that never came to Molly. You stay! Always, always, Molly will take +care of you!" + +Rhoda was deeply touched. This was the cry of the famished motherhood +of a dying race. She put her soft cheek on Molly's shoulder and she +could no longer see the sun, for her eyes were tear-blinded. Kut-le, +standing on the other side of the camp, looked at the picture with +deepening eyes; then he crossed and put his hand on Rhoda's shoulder. + +"Dear one," he said, "you must eat your supper, then we must take the +trail." + +Rhoda looked up into the young man's face. She was exquisite in the +failing light. For a moment it seemed as if Kut-le must fold her in +his arms; but something in her troubled gaze withheld him and he only +smiled at her caressingly. + +"Before you eat," he said, "come to the edge of the camp and look +through the glasses." + +Rhoda hurried after him, and stared out over the desert. A short +distance out, vivid in the afterglow, moved two figures. She +distinguished the short wiry figure of Porter, the gaunt figure of +DeWitt, walking with determined strides. Waiting till she could +command her voice, Rhoda turned to Kut-le. He was watching her keenly. + +"Will they pick up our trail? Are the poor things badly lost?" + +"Billy Porter lost! I guess not! And I gave him enough hints so that +he ought to join Newman in another twenty-four hours." + +Rhoda smiled wanly. + +"Sometimes you forget to act like a cold-blooded Indian." + +Kut-le gave his familiar chuckle. + +"Well, you see, I've been contaminated by my long association with the +whites!" + +And so again the nights of going. During her waking hours, Rhoda spent +the greater part of her time considering arguments that would have +weight with Kut-le when the struggle came which she knew was imminent. + +If she had suffered before, if the early part of her abduction had been +agony, it had been nothing in comparison with what she was enduring in +putting Kut-le aside for DeWitt. And, after all, she had no final +guide in holding to her resolution save an instinct that told her that +her course was the right one. All the arguments that she could put +into words against inter-race marriage seemed inadequate. This +instinct which was wordless and formless alone remained sufficient. + +And with the ill logic of womankind, through all her arguing with +herself there flushed one glad thought. Kut-le knew that she loved +him, knew that she was suffering in the thought of giving him up! His +tender, half sad, half triumphant smile proved that, as did his +protective air of ownership. + +Rhoda noticed one condition of her keeping to her decision. She was +very firm in it at night when the desert was dim. But in the glory of +the dawns and the sunsets, her little arguments seemed strangely small. +Sitting on a mountainside one afternoon, Rhoda watched a rain-storm +sweep across the ranges, across the desert, to the far-lying mesas. +Normally odorless, the desert, after the rain, emitted a faint, +ineffable odor that teased the girl's fancy as if she verged on the +secret of the desert's beauty. Exquisite violet mists rolled back to +the mountains. Flashing every rainbow tint from its moistened breast +the desert lay as if breathing the very words of the Great Scheme. + +Suddenly to Rhoda her resolution seemed small and futile, and for a +long hour she revelled in the thought of belonging to the man she +loved. And yet as night descended and the infinite reaches of the +desert receded into darkness, the spell was broken, and the old doubts +and misery returned. + +And so again, the nights of going. But the holiday aspect of the +flight was gone. Kut-le moved with a grim determination that was not +to be misinterpreted. Rhoda knew that they were to reach the Mexican +border with all possible speed. The young Indian drove the little +party to the limit of its endurance. Rhoda avoided talking to him as +much as she could and Kut-le, seeming to understand her mood, left her +much to herself. + +On the fourth day they camped on a cañon edge. After Rhoda had eaten +she walked with Kut-le to the far edge and looked down. The cañon was +very deep and narrow. Some distance away, near where it opened on the +desert, lay a heap of ruins. + +"Is that another pueblo?" asked Rhoda. + +"No, it's an old monastery. Part of the year they have a padre there. +I wish I knew if there was one there now." + +"Why?" asked Rhoda suspiciously. + +"Don't bother your dear head," answered Kut-le. Then he went on, as if +half to himself: "There's been an awful lot of fooling on this +expedition. Perhaps I ought to have made for the Mexican border the +very night I took you." He looked at Rhoda's wide, troubled eyes. +"But no, then I would have missed this wonderful desert growth of +yours! But now we are going straight over the border where I know a +padre that will many us. Then we will make for Europe at once." + +The morning sun glinted on the pine-needles. Old Molly hummed a +singsong air over the stew-pot. And Rhoda stood with stormy, +tear-dimmed eyes and quivering lips. + +"It can never, never be, Kut-le!" + +"Why not?" + +"We can't solve the problems of race adjustment. No love is big enough +for that. I have been civilized a thousand years. You have been +savage a thousand years. You can't come forward. I can't go backward." + +"You know well enough, Rhoda," said Kut-le quietly, "that I am +civilized." + +"You are externally, perhaps," said the girl. "But you yourself have +no proof that at heart you are not as uncivilized as your father or +grandfather. Your stealing me shows that. Nothing can change our +instinct. You know that you might revert at any time." + +Kut-le turned on her fiercely. + +"Do you love me, Rhoda?" + +Rhoda stood silently, her cleft chin trembling, her deep gray eyes wide +and grief-stricken. + +"Do you love me--and better than you do DeWitt?" insisted the man, + +Suddenly Rhoda lifted her head proudly. + +"Yes," she said, "I do love you, better than any one in the world; but +I cannot marry you!" + +Kut-le took her trembling hands in his. + +"Why not, dear one?" he asked. + +Still the sun flickered on the pine-needles and still Molly hummed over +her stew-pot. Still Rhoda stood looking into the eyes of the man she +loved, her scarlet cheeks growing each moment more deeply crimson. + +"Because you are an Indian. The instinct in me against such a marriage +is so strong that I dare not go against it." + +Kut-le's mouth closed in the old way. + +"And still you shall marry me, Rhoda!" + +"I am a white woman, Kut-le. I can't marry an Indian. The difference +is too great!" + +Kut-le turned abruptly and walked to the cañon edge, looking far out to +the desert. Rhoda, panting and half hysterical, watched him. The +moment which she had so dreaded had arrived, and she found herself, +after all her planning, utterly unprepared to meet it save with +hackneyed phrases. + +It seemed a long time that Kut-le stood staring away from her. At last +Rhoda could bear the silence no longer. She ran to him and put her +trembling hand on his arm. He turned his stern young face to her and +her heart failed her. + +"O Kut-le! Kut-le!" she cried. "If you won't help me to do right, who +will? It's not right for us to marry! Just not right! That's all I +know about it!" + +Kut-le put both hands on her shoulders. + +"Look here, Rhoda. What you call the 'right' instinct is just the +remnant of the old man-made race hatred in you. It's just a part of +the old conceit of the Caucasian." + +Rhoda stirred restlessly, but Kut-le held her firmly and went on. + +"I tell you, if we're not to go mad, we've got to believe that great +things come to us for a purpose. There is no human being who has loved +who does not believe that love is the greatest thing that has been +given to man. The man who has loved knows that the biggest things in +the world have been done for the love of woman. Love is bigger than +nations or races. It's human, not white, or black, or yellow. It's +above all we can do to tarnish it with our little prejudices. When it +comes greatly, it comes supremely." + +He lifted the girl's face and looked deeply into her eyes. + +"Rhoda, if it has come as greatly to you as it has to me, you will not +pause for any sorrow that your coming to me may cost you. You will +come, in spite of everything. I believe that if in your smallness and +ignorance you refuse this gift that has come to you and me, you will be +outraging the greatest force in nature." + +Rhoda stood sorrow-stricken and confused. When the deep, quiet voice +ceased, she said brokenly: + +"I haven't lived in the desert so long as you. The way does not lie so +clear to me. If only I had your conviction, I too could be strong and +walk the path I saw unhesitatingly. But I see no path!" + +"Then," said Kut-le, "because I see, I'll decide for you! O Rhoda, you +must believe in me! I have had you in my power and I have kept the +faith with you. I am going to take you and marry you. I am going to +make this gift that has come to you and me make us the big man and +woman that nature needs. Tonight we shall reach the padre who will +marry us." + +He watched the girl keenly for a moment, then he again turned from her +deliberately and walked to the edge of the cañon, as if he wanted her +to come to her final decision unbiased by his nearness. But he turned +back to her with a curious expression on his face. + +"Come and take a good-by look, Rhoda! Your friends are below. I hope +it will be some time before we see them again!" + +Rhoda went to him. Far, far below, she saw little dots of men making +camp beyond the monastery near the desert. Suddenly Rhoda sank to her +knees with a cry of longing that was heart-breaking. + +"O my people! My own people!" she sobbed, crouching upon the cañon +edge. + +Kut-le watched the little figure with inscrutable eyes. Then he lifted +the girl to her feet. + +"Rhoda, are you going to eat your heart out for your own kind if you +marry me? Won't I be sufficient? It hadn't occurred to me that I +might not be!" + +"You haven't given up your people," answered Rhoda. "You are always +going back to them." + +"But you aren't really giving them up," urged Kut-le. "It really is I +who make the sacrifice of my race!" + +"And that is the reason for one of my fears," cried Rhoda. "I am +afraid that some day you would find the price too great and that our +marriage would be wrecked." + +"Even if I went back for a few months each year, would that make you +unhappy?" asked Kut-le. + +"Kut-le!" exclaimed Rhoda. "I am not talking of externals. I mean +that if your longing for your own kind made you lose your love for me. +Oh, I can't see any of it straight, but I am afraid!" + +"Nonsense, Rhoda! I fought that battle long before I knew you. There +is absolutely no danger of my reverting. I am going to spend the rest +of my life among the whites even if you shouldn't marry me, Rhoda. +Rhoda, I wish I had had time to let you grow to it fully!" + +Rhoda stood rigidly. Molly, sensing trouble, hovered restlessly just +out of earshot. + +"If you married DeWitt," Kut-le went on, "could you forget me? Forget +the desert? Forget our days and nights? Forget my arms about you?" + +"Oh, no! No!" cried Rhoda. "You know that I shall love you always!" + +"And will DeWitt want what you offer him?" Kut-le went on, mercilessly. + +Rhoda winced. + +"I wish," said Kut-le huskily, "you never will know how I wish that you +had come to me freely, feeling that the sacrifice was worth while!" + +Rhoda looked at him wonderingly. After all the weeks of iron +determination, was the young giant weakening, was his great heart +failing him! + +"I had thought," he went on, "that you were big enough to stand the +test. That after the travail and the heart scourging, you would +see--and would come to me freely--strong enough to smile at all your +regrets and fears. That thought steeled me to put you through the +torture. But if now, at the end, you are coming to me only because you +must! Rhoda, I don't want you on those terms." + +Rhoda gasped. She felt as one feels when in a dream one falls an +unexpected and endless distance. The relief from the pressure of +Kut-le's will that had forced her on, for so long, left her weak and +aimless. + +Yet somehow she found the strength to say: + +"Kut-le, we must give each other up! I love you so that I can let you +go! Oh, can't you see how I feel about it!" + +Again Kut-le looked far off over vista of mountains and cañon. His +eyes were deep and abstracted, as if he saw into the years ahead with +knowledge denied to Rhoda. Then he turned to Rhoda and searched her +face with burning gaze. He eyed her hair, her lovely heart-broken +face, her slender figure. For a moment his face was tortured by a look +of doubt that was heart-shattering. He lifted Rhoda across his chest +in the old way and held her to him with passionate tenderness. He laid +his face against hers and she heard him whisper: + +"O my love! Love of my youth and my manhood!" Then he set her very +gently to her feet. "Don't cry," he said. "I can't bear it!" + +Rhoda threw her arms above her head in an abandonment of agony. + +"Oh, I cannot, cannot bear this!" Then she added more calmly: "I +suffer as much as you, Kut-le!" + +Again the look of unspeakable grief crossed the young Indian's face, +but it immediately became inscrutable. He led Rhoda along the cañon +edge. + +"Do you see that little trail going down?" he said. + +"Yes," said Rhoda wonderingly. + +"Then go!" said Kut-le quietly. + +Rhoda looked up at him blankly. + +"Go!" he said sternly. "Go back to your own kind and I will go on, +alone. Don't stop to talk any more. Go now!" + +Rhoda turned and looked at Cesca squatting by the horses, at Molly +hovering near by with anxious eyes. Never to make the dawn camp, +again--never to hear Molly humming over the stew-pot! Suddenly Rhoda +felt that if she could have Molly with her she would not be so utterly +separated from Kut-le. + +"Let Molly go with me!" she said. "I love Molly!" + +"No!" said Kut-le. "You are to forget the desert and the Indians. Go +now!" + +With awe and grief too deep for words, Rhoda obeyed the young chief's +stern eyes. She clambered down the rough trail to a break in the cañon +wall, then, clinging with hands and feet, down the sheer side. The +tall figure, beautiful in its perfect symmetry, stood immovable, the +face never turning from her. Rhoda knew that she never was to forget +this picture of him. At the foot of the cañon wall she stood long, +looking up. Far, far above, the straight figure stood in lonely +majesty, gazing at the life for which he had sacrificed so much. Rhoda +looked until, tear-blinded, she turned away. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE END OF THE TRAIL + +The cañon was sandy and rough. Rhoda could see the monastery set among +olive-trees. Beyond this where the cañon opened to the desert she knew +that the white men's camp lay, though she could not see it. + +She had no fear of losing her way, with the cañon walls hemming her in. +She still was sobbing softly to herself as she started along the foot +of the wall. She tramped steadily for a time, then she stopped +abruptly. She would not go on! The sacrifice was too much! She +looked back to the cañon top. Kut-le had disappeared. Already he must +be only a memory to her! + +Then of a sudden Rhoda felt a sense of shame that her strength of +purpose should be so much less than the Indian's. At least, she could +carry in her heart forever the example of his fortitude. It would be +like his warm hand guiding and lifting her through the hard days and +years to come. Strangely comforted and strengthened by this thought, +Rhoda started on through the familiar wilderness of the desert. + +This, she thought, was her last moment alone in the desert, for without +Kut-le she would never return to it. She watched the gray-green cactus +against the painted rock heaps. She watched the brown, tortured crest +of the cañon against the violet sky. She watched the melting haze +above the monastery, the buzzards sliding through the motionless air, +the far multi-colored ranges, as if she would etch forever on her +memory the world that Kut-le loved. And she knew that, let her body +wander where it must, her spirit would forever belong to the desert. + +Rhoda passed the monastery, where she thought she saw men among the +olive-trees. But she did not stop. She gradually worked out into an +easy trail that led toward the open desert. + +The little camp at the cañon's mouth was preparing to move when Jack +Newman jumped excitedly to his feet. Coming toward them through the +sand was a boyish figure that moved with a beautiful stride, tireless +and swift. As the newcomer drew nearer they saw that she was erect and +lithe, slender but full-chested and that her face-- + +"Rhoda!" shouted John DeWitt. + +In a moment, Jack was grasping one of her hands and John DeWitt the +other, while Billy Porter and Carlos shook each other's hands excitedly. + +"Gee whiz!" cried Jack. "John said you were in superb condition, but I +didn't realize that it meant this! Why, Rhoda, if it wasn't for your +hair and eyes and the dimple in your chin, I wouldn't know you!" + +"Are you all right?" asked DeWitt anxiously. "Where in the world did +you come from? Where have you been?" + +"Were you hurt much in the fight?" cried Rhoda. "Oh!" looking about at +the eager listeners, "that was the most awful thing I ever saw, that +fight! And Billy Porter, you are all right, I see. How shall I ever +repay you all for what you have done for me!" + +"Gosh!" exclaimed Porter. "I'm repaid just by looking at you! If that +pison Piute hasn't made monkeys of us all, I'd like to know who has! +How did you get away from him?" + +"He let me go," answered Rhoda simply. + +The men gasped. + +"What was the matter with him!" ejaculated Porter, "Was he sick or +dying?" + +"No," said Rhoda mechanically; "I guess he saw that it was useless." + +"And he dropped you in the desert without water or food or horse!" +cried DeWitt. "Oh, that Apache cur!" + +"No! No!" exclaimed Rhoda. "He dropped me not far from here. We saw +the camp and he sent me to it." + +The men looked at each other incredulously. Jack Newman's face was +puzzled. He knew Kut-le and it was hard to believe that he would give +up what he already had won. DeWitt spoke excitedly. + +"Then he's still within our reach! Hurry up, friends!" + +Rhoda turned swiftly to the gaunt-faced man. Then she spoke very +distinctly, with that in her deep gray eyes that stirred each listener +with a vague sense of loss and yearning. + +"I don't want Kut-le harmed! I shan't tell you anything that will help +you locate him. He did me no harm. On the contrary, he made me a well +woman, physically and mentally. If I can forgive his effrontery in +stealing me, surely you all will grant me this favor to top all that +you have done for me." + +Porter's under lip protruded with the old obstinate look. + +"That fellow's got to be made an example of, Miss Rhoda," he said. "No +white that's a man can stand for what he's done. He's bound to be +hunted down, you know. If we don't, others will!" + +Rhoda turned impatiently to DeWitt. + +"John, after all our talk, you must understand! You know what good +Kut-le has done me and how big it was of him to let me go. Make them +promise to let him alone!" + +But there was no answering look of understanding in DeWitt's worn face. + +"Rhoda, you haven't any idea what you're asking! It isn't a question +of forgiveness! You don't get the point of view that you ought! Why, +the whole country is worked up over this thing! The newspapers are +full of it. Just as Porter says, the Apache's got to be made an +example of. We will hunt him down, if it takes a year!" + +So far Jack Newman had said nothing. Rhoda looked at him as if he were +her last hope. + +"Oh, Jack!" she cried. "He was your friend, your dearest friend! And +he sent me back! Why, you never would have got me if he hadn't +voluntarily let me go! He is wonderful on the trail!" + +"So we found!" said DeWitt grimly. + +But Rhoda was watching Jack. + +"Rhoda," Jack said at last, "I know how you feel. I know what a bully +chap Kut-le is. This just about does me up. But what he's done can't +be let go. We've got to punish him!" + +"'Punish him!'" repeated Rhoda. "Just what do you mean by that?" + +"We mean," answered DeWitt, "that when we find him, I'll shoot him!" + +"No!" cried Rhoda. "No! Why he _sent me back_!" + +The three men looked at Rhoda uncomfortably and at each other +wonderingly. A woman's magnanimity is never to be understood by a man! + +"Are you tired, Rhoda?" asked DeWitt abruptly. "Do you feel able to +take to the saddle at once?" + +"I'm all right!" exclaimed Rhoda impatiently. "What are your plans?" + +DeWitt pointed out across the sand to the cañon wall. A line of +slender footprints led through the level wastes as plainly as if on +new-fallen snow. + +"We will follow your trail," he said. + +There was silence for an instant in the little camp while the men eyed +the girlish face, flushed and vivid beneath the tan. As it had come +when DeWitt had rescued her, the old sense of the appalling nature of +her experience was returning to her again. With sickening clarity she +was getting the men's view-point. The old Rhoda would have protested, +would have fought desperately and blindly. The new Rhoda had lived +through hours of hopeless battle with circumstance. She had learned +the desert's lesson of patience. + +"I have thought," she said slowly, "so much of the joy of my return to +you! God only knows how the picture of it has kept me alive from day +to day. All _your_ joy seems swallowed up in your thirst for revenge. +All right, my friends. Only, wherever you go, I go too!" + +Billy Porter shook his head with a muttered "Gosh!" as if the ways of +women were quite beyond him. + +"I think you had better ride on to the ranch with Carlos," said DeWitt, +"while we take up Kut-le's trail. This will be no trip for a woman." + +"You're foolish!" exclaimed Jack. "We'll not let her out of our sight +again. You can't tell what stunt Kut-le is up to!" + +"That's right!" said Porter. "It'll be hard on her, but she'd better +come with us." + +"Don't trouble to discuss the matter," said Rhoda coolly. "I am coming +with you. Katherine probably sent some clothing for me, didn't she?" + +"Why, yes!" exclaimed Jack. "That was one of the first things she +thought of. She sent her own riding things for you. She spoke of the +little silk dress you had on and said you hadn't anything appropriate +in your trunks for the rough trip you might have to take after we found +you." + +Jack was talking rapidly, as if to relieve the tension of the +situation. He undid a pack that he had kept tied to his saddle during +all the long weeks of pursuit. + +"We can rig up a dressing-room of blankets in no time," he went on, +putting a bundle into Rhoda's hands. + +Rhoda stood holding the bundle in silence while all hands set to +rigging up her dressing-room. She felt suddenly cool-headed and +resourceful. Her mind was forced away from her own sorrow to the +solution of another heavy problem. In the little blanket tent she +unrolled the bundle and smiled tenderly at the evidence of Katherine's +thoughtfulness. There were underwear, handkerchiefs, toilet articles +and Katherine's own pretty corduroy divided skirt and Norfolk jacket +with a little blouse and Ascot scarf. + +Rhoda took off her buckskins and tattered blue shirt slowly, with lips +that would quiver. This was the last, the very last of Kut-le! She +dressed herself in Katherine's clothes, then folded up the buckskins +and shirt. She would keep them, always! When she came out from the +tent she stepped awkwardly, for the skirts bothered her, and Jack, +waiting nearby, smiled at her. At another time Rhoda would have joined +in his amusement, but now she asked soberly: + +"Which horse is for me?" + +"Rhoda!" cried DeWitt, "I really wouldn't know you! I thought I never +could want you anything but ethereal, but--Jack! Isn't she wonderful!" + +Jack grinned. Rhoda, tanned and oval-cheeked, and straight of back and +shoulder, was not to be compared with the invalid Rhoda. + +"Gee!" he said. "Wait till Katherine sees her!" + +Rhoda shrugged her shoulders. + +"My pleasure in all that is swallowed up by this savage obsession of +yours." + +John DeWitt led out Rhoda's pony. + +"You don't understand, dear," he said. "You can't doubt my heavenly +joy at having you safe. But the outrage of it all-- That Apache +devil!" + +"I do understand, John," answered Rhoda wearily. "Don't try to explain +again. I know just how you all feel. Only, I will not have Kut-le +killed." + +"Rhoda," said DeWitt hoarsely, "I shall kill him as I would a yellow +dog!" + +Rhoda turned away. The line of march was quickly formed. Porter led. +Carlos closed the rear. DeWitt and Newman rode on either side of +Rhoda. They were not long in reaching the trail down the cañon wall. +Here they paused, for the rough ascent was impossible for the horses. +The men looked questioningly at Rhoda but she volunteered no +information. She believed that Kut-le had left the camp at the top +long since. If for any reason he had delayed his going, she knew that +he had watched every movement in the white camp and could protect +himself easily. + +"We can leave Carlos with the horses," said Porter, "while we climb up +and see where the trail leads." + +Rhoda dismounted, still silent, and followed Porter and DeWitt up the +trail. Jack following her. The trail had been difficult to descend +and was very hard to ascend. There was a dumb purposefulness about the +men's movements that sickened Rhoda. She had seen too much of men in +this mood of late and she feared them, She knew that all the amenities +of civilization had been stripped from them and that she was only +pitting her feeble strength against a world-old instinct. + +Her heart was beating heavily as they neared the top, but not from the +hard climb. She was inured to difficult trails. There was a sheer +pull, shoulder high, at the top. The four accomplished it in one +breathless group, then stood as if paralyzed. + +Sunlight flickered through the pines. Molly and Cesca prepared the +trail packs. And Kut-le sat beside the spring, eying his visitors +grimly. He looked very cool and well groomed in comparison with his +trail-worn adversaries. + +DeWitt pulled out his Colt. + +"I think I have you, this time," he said. + +"Yes?" asked Kut-le, without stirring. "And what are you going to do +with me?" + +"I'm going to take about a minute to tell you what I think of you, and +give you another minute in which to offer up some sort of an Indian +prayer. Then I'm going to shoot you!" + +Kut-le glanced from DeWitt to Rhoda, thence to Porter and Newman. +Porter's under lip protruded. Jack looked sick. Both the men had +their hands on their guns. Rhoda moistened her lips to speak, but +Kut-le was before her. + +"Are you a good shot, DeWitt?" he asked. "Because I know that Jack and +Porter are sure in their aim." + +"You'll never know whether I am or not," replied DeWitt. "You'd better +be thankful that we are shooting you instead of hanging you, as you +deserve, you cur! You'd better be glad you're dying! You haven't a +white friend left in the country! All your ambition and hard work have +come to this because you couldn't change your Indian hide, after all! +Now then, say your prayers! Rhoda, cover up your eyes!" + +Kut-le rose slowly. The whites noticed with a little pang of shame +that he made no attempt to touch his gun which lay on the ground beside +him. + +"You'd better let Jack and Billy shoot with you," he said quietly. +"You won't like to think about the shot that killed me, afterward. It +isn't nice, I've heard, the memory of killing a man!" + +"I'm shooting an Indian, not a man!" said DeWitt. "Say your prayers!" + +The spell of fear that had paralyzed Rhoda snapped. Before Jack or +Billy could detain her she ran to DeWitt's side and grasped his arm. + +"John! John! Listen to me, one moment! Look at me! In spite of all, +look, see what he's made of me, for you to reap the harvest! Look at +me! I beg of you, do not shoot him! Let him go! Make him promise to +leave the country. Make him promise anything! He keeps promises +because he is an Indian! But if you have any love for me, if you care +anything for my happiness, don't kill Kut-le! I tell you I will never +marry you with his blood on your hands!" + +A look curiously hard, curiously suspicious, came to DeWitt's eyes. +Without lowering his gun or looking at the girl, he answered: + +"You plead too well, Rhoda! I want this Indian to pay for more torture +of mine than you can dream of! Get back out of the way! Are you +ready, Kut-le?" + +Rhoda's slender body was rigid. She moved away from DeWitt until she +could encompass the four men in her glance. With arms folded across +her arching chest she spoke with a richness in her voice that none of +her hearers ever could forget. + +"Remember, friends, you have forced me to this! You had me safe, but +you thought more of revenge than you did of my safety! John, if you +kill Kut-le you will kill the man that I love with all the passion of +my soul!" + +DeWitt gasped as if he had been struck. Newman and Porter stared +dizzily. Only Kut-le stood composed. His eyes with the old look of +tragic tenderness were fastened on the girl. + +"Are you going to shoot him now, John?" + +"Rhoda!" cried DeWitt fiercely. "Rhoda! Do you realize what you are +saying?" + +"Yes," said Rhoda steadily. "I realize that a force greater than race +pride, greater than self love, greater than intelligence or fear, is +gripping me! John, I love this man! He and I have lived through +experiences together too great for words. He had me in the hollow of +his hand but he sent me back to you, his enemy. You say that you love +me. But you would not listen to my pleading, you would not grant me +the only favor I ever asked you, the granting of which could not have +harmed you." + +Her listeners did not stir. Rhoda moistened her lips. + +"Kut-le---- Think what he sacrificed for me. He gave up his dearest +friendships. He gave up his honor and his country and risked his life, +for me. And then when he thought the sacrifice would prove too great +on my part, he gave me up! I ask you to give him his life, for me. +Because, John, and Billy Porter, and Jack, I tell you that I love him!" + +"My God!" panted DeWitt. "Rhoda, don't! You don't know what you're +saying! Rhoda!" + +Rhoda looked off where the afternoon sun lay like the very glory of God +upon the chaos of range and desert. Almost--almost the secret of life +itself seemed to bare itself to the girl's wide eyes. The white men +watched her aghast. There was a desperate, hunted look in DeWitt's +tired face. Rhoda turned back. + +"I know what I'm saying," she replied. "But I tell you that this thing +is bigger than I am! I have fought it, defied it, ignored it. It only +grows the stronger! I know that this comes to humans but rarely. Yet +it has come to me! It is the greatest force in the world! It is what +makes life persist! To most people it comes only in small degree and +they call that love! To me, in this boundless country, it has come +boundlessly. It is greater than what you know as love. It is greater +than I am. I don't know what sorrow or what joy my decision may bring +me but--John, I want you to let Kut-le live that I may marry him!" + +DeWitt's arm dropped as if dead. + +"Rhoda," he repeated, agonizedly, "you don't know what you are saying!" + +"Don't I?" asked Rhoda steadily. "Have I fought my fight without +coming to know the risk? Don't I know what atavism means, and race +alienation, and hunger for my own? But this which has come to me is +stronger than all these. I love Kut-le, John, and I ask you to give +his life to me!" + +Still Kut-le stood motionless, as did Jack and Porter. DeWitt, without +taking his eyes from Rhoda's, slowly, very slowly, slipped his Colt +back into his belt. For a long moment he gazed at the wonder of the +girl's exalted face. Then he passed his hands across his eyes. + +"I give up!" he said quietly. Then he turned, walked slowly to the +cañon edge, and clambered deliberately down the trail. + +Jack and Billy stood dazed for a moment longer, then Porter cleared his +throat. + +"Miss Rhoda, don't do this! Now don't you! Come with us back to the +ranch. Just for a month till you get away from this Injun's influence! +Come back and talk to Mrs. Newman. Come back and get some other +woman's ideas! For God's sake, Miss Rhoda, don't ruin your life this +way!" + +"When Katherine knows it all, she'll understand and agree with me," +replied Rhoda. "Jack, try to remember everything I said, to tell +Katherine." + +"_I_ tell her!" cried Jack. "Why can't you tell her yourself? What +are you planning to do?" + +"That is for Kut-le to say," answered Rhoda. + +"Rhoda," said Jack, and his voice shook with earnestness, "listen! +Listen to me, your old playmate! I know how fascinating Kut-le is. +Lord help us, girl, he's been my best friend for years! And in spite +of everything, he's my friend still. But, Rhoda, it won't do! It +won't work out right. He's a fine man for men. But as a husband to a +white woman, he's still an Indian; and after the first, that must +always come between you! Think again, Rhoda! I tell you, it won't do!" + +Rhoda's voice still was clear and high, still bore the note of +exaltation. + +"I have thought again and again, Jack. There could be no end to the +thinking, so I gave it up!" + +Kut-le's eyes were on the girl, inscrutable and calm as the desert +itself, but still he did not speak. + +Billy Porter wiped his forehead again and again on a cloth that bore no +resemblance to a handkerchief. + +"I can't put up any kind of an argument. All I can say is I don't see +how any one like you could do it, Miss Rhoda! Just think! His folks +is Injuns, dirty, blanket Injuns! They scratch themselves from one +day's end to the other. They will be your relatives, too! They'll be +hanging round you all the time. I'm not a married man but I've noticed +when you marry a man you generally marry his whole darn family. +I--I--oh, there's no use talking to her! Let's take her away by force, +Jack!" + +Rhoda caught her breath and instinctively moved toward Kut-le. But +Jack did not stir. + +"No," he answered; "I've done all the chasing and trying to kidnap that +I care about. But, Rhoda, once and for all I tell you that I think you +are doing you and yours a deadly wrong!" + +"Perhaps I am," replied Rhoda steadily. "I make no pretense of +knowing. At any rate, I'm going to stay with Kut-le." + +"For heaven's sake, Rhoda," cried Jack, "at least come back to the +ranch and let Katherine give you a wedding. She'll never forgive me +for leaving you this way!" + +Porter turned on Jack savagely. + +"Look here!" he shouted. "Are you crazy too! You're talking about her +_marrying_ this Apache!" + +Jack spoke through his teeth obstinately. + +"I've sweated blood over this thing as long as I propose to. If Rhoda +wants to marry Kut-le, that's her business. I always did like Kut-le +and I always shall. I've done my full duty in trying to get Rhoda +back. Now that she says that she cares for him, it's neither your nor +my business--nor DeWitt's. But I want them to come back to the ranch +with me and let Katherine give them a nice wedding." + +"But--but--" spluttered Porter. Then he stopped as the good sense of +Jack's attitude suddenly came home to him. "All right," he said +sullenly. "I'm like DeWitt. I pass. Only--if you try to take this +Injun back to the ranch, he'll never get there alive. He'll be lynched +by the first bunch of cowboys or miners we strike. Miss Rhoda nor you +can't stop 'em. You want to remember how the whole country is worked +up over this!" + +Rhoda whitened. + +"Do you think that too, Jack and Kut-le?" + +For the first time, Jack spoke to Kut-le. + +"What do you think, Kut-le?" he said. + +"Porter's right, of course," answered Kut-le. "My plan always has been +to slip down into Mexico and then go to Paris for a year or two. I've +got enough money for that. I've always wanted to do some work in the +Sorbonne. By the end of two years I think the Southwest will be +willing to welcome us back." + +Nothing could have so simplified the situation as Kut-le's calm +reference to his plans for carrying on his profession. He stood in his +well-cut clothes, not an Indian, but a well-bred, clean-cut man of the +world. Even Porter recognized this, and with a sigh he resigned +himself to the inevitable. + +"You folks better come down to the monastery and be married," he said. +"There's a padre down there." + +"Gee! What'll I say to Katherine!" groaned Jack. + +"Katherine will understand," said Rhoda. "Katherine always loved +Kut-le. Even now I can't believe that she has altogether turned +against him." + +Jack Newman heaved a sigh. + +"Well," he said, "Kut-le, will you and Rhoda come down to the monastery +with us and be married?" His young niece was solemn. + +"Yes," answered Kut-le, "if Rhoda is agreed." + +Rhoda's face still wore the look of exaltation. + +"I will come!" she said. + +Kut-le did not let his glance rest on her, but turned to Billy. + +"Mr. Porter," he said courteously, "will you come to my wedding?" + +Billy looked dazed. He stared from Kut-le to Rhoda, and Rhoda smiled +at him. His last defense was down. + +"I'll be there, thanks!" he said. + +"There is a side trail that we can take my horses down," said Kut-le. + +They all were silent as Kut-le led the way down the side trail and by a +circuitous path to the monastery. He made his way up through a rude, +grass-grown path to a cloistered front that was in fairly good repair. +Here they dismounted and waited while Kut-le pulled a long bell-rope +that hung beside a battered door. There was not long to wait before +the door opened and a white-faced old padre stood staring in amazement +at the little group. + +Kut-le talked rapidly, now in Spanish and now in English, and at last +the padre turned to Rhoda with a smile. + +"And you?" he asked. "You are quite willing?" + +"Yes," said Rhoda, though her voice trembled in spite of her. + +"And you?" asked the padre, turning to Jack and Billy. + +The two men nodded. + +"Then enter!" said the padre. + +And with Cesca and Molly bringing up the rear, the wedding party +followed the padre down a long adobe hallway across a courtyard where +palms still shaded a trickling fountain, into a dim chapel, with grim +adobe walls and pews hacked and worn by centuries of use. + +The padre was excited and pleased. + +"If," he said, "you all will sit, I will call my two choir-boys who are +at work in the olive orchard. They are not far away. We are always +ready to hold service for such as may wish to attend." + +He disappeared through the door of the choir loft and returned shortly, +followed by two tall Mexican half-breeds, clad in priceless surplices +that had been wrought in Spain two centuries before. They lighted some +meager candles before the altar and began their chant in soft, +well-trained voices. + +The padre turned and waited. Kut-le rose and, taking Rhoda's hand, he +led her before the aged priest. + +To the two white men the scene was unforgetable. The dim old chapel, +scene of who could tell what heart-burnings of desert history; the +priest of the ancient religion; standing before him the two young +people, one of a vanishing and one of a conquering race, both +startlingly vivid in the perfection of their beauty; and, looking on, +the two wide-eyed squaws with aboriginal wonder in their eyes. + +It was but a moment before Kut-le had slipped a ring on Rhoda's finger; +but a moment before the priest had pronounced them man and wife. + +As the two left the priest, Jack kissed Rhoda solemnly twice. + +"Once for Katherine," he said, "and once for me. I don't understand +much how it all has come about, but I know Kut-le, and I'm willing to +trust you to him." + +Kut-le gave Jack a clear look. + +"Jack, I'll never forget that speech. If I live long enough, I'll +repay you for it." + +"And an Indian keeps his promises," said Rhoda softly. + +Billy Porter was not to be outdone. + +"Now that it's all over with, I'll say that Kut-le is a good fighter +and that you are the handsomest couple I ever saw." + +Kut-le chuckled. + +"Cesca, am I such a heap fool?" + +Cesca sniffed. + +"White squaws no good! They--" + +But Molly elbowed Cesca aside. + +"You no listen to her!" she said. + +"O Molly! Molly!" cried Rhoda. "You are a woman! I'm glad you were +here!" And the men's eyes blurred a little as the Indian woman hugged +the white girl to her and crooned over her. + +"You no cry! You no cry! When you come back, Molly come to your +house, take care of you!" + +After a moment Rhoda wiped her eyes, and Kut-le, who had been giving +the old padre something that the old fellow eyed with joy, took the +girl's hand gently. + +"Come!" he said. + +At the door the others watched them mount and ride away. The two sat +their horses with the grace that comes of long, hard trails. + +"Maybe I've done wrong," said Jack. "But I don't feel so. I'm awful +sorry for DeWitt." + +"I'm awful sorry for DeWitt," agreed Porter, "but I'm sorrier for +myself. I'm older than DeWitt a whole lot. He's young enough to get +over anything." + +When they had ridden out of sight of the monastery, Kut-le pulled in +his horse and dismounted. Then he stood looking up into Rhoda's face. +In his eyes was the same look of exaltation that made hers wonderful. +He put his hand on her knee. + +"We've a long ride ahead of us," he said softly. "I want something +that I can't have on horseback." + +Rhoda laid her hand on his. + +"You meant it all, Rhoda? It was not only to save my life?" + +"Do you have to ask that?" said Rhoda. + +"No!" answered Kut-le simply. "You see I waited for you. I knew that +they would bring you back. And if you had not spoken, I would rather +have died. I had made up my mind to that. O my love! It has come to +us greatly!" + +Then, as if the flood, controlled all these months, had burst its +bonds, Kut-le lifted Rhoda from her saddle to his arms and laid his +lips to hers. For a long moment the two clung to each other as if they +knew that life could hold no moment for them so sweet as this. Then +they mounted and, side by side, they rode off into the desert sunset. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HEART OF THE DESERT*** + + +******* This file should be named 16777-8.txt or 16777-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/7/7/16777 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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Herbert Dunton</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Heart of the Desert</p> +<p> Kut-Le of the Desert</p> +<p>Author: Honoré Willsie Morrow</p> +<p>Release Date: September 30, 2005 [eBook #16777]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HEART OF THE DESERT***</p> +<br><br><center><h3>E-text prepared by Al Haines</h3></center><br><br> +<hr class="full" noshade> +<br> +<br> +<A NAME="img-front"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-front.jpg" ALT="Side by side, they rode off into the desert sunset." BORDER="2" WIDTH="401" HEIGHT="639"> +<H4> +[Frontispiece: Side by side, they rode off into the desert sunset.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +THE HEART OF THE DESERT +</H1> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +(KUT-LE OF THE DESERT) +</H3> + +<BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +By HONORÉ WILLSIE +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +Author of "Still Jim" +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +With Frontispiece In Colors +<BR><BR> +By V. HERBERT DUNTON +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +A. L. BURT COMPANY, PUBLISHERS +<BR><BR> +114-120 East Twenty-third Street —— New York +</H4> + +<BR> + +<H5 ALIGN="center"> +PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY +</H5> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +1913</H4> + +<BR> + + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CONTENTS +</H2> + +<CENTER> + +<TABLE WIDTH="80%"> +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">CHAPTER</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">I </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap01">THE VALLEY OF THE PECOS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap02">THE CAUCASIAN WAY</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap03">THE INDIAN AND CAUCASIAN</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap04">THE INDIAN WAY</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap05">THE PURSUIT</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap06">ENTERING THE DESERT KINDERGARTEN</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap07">THE FIRST LESSON</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap08">A BROADENING HORIZON</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap09">TOUCH AND GO</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">X </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap10">A LONG TRAIL</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XI </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">THE TURN IN THE TRAIL</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">THE CROSSING TRAILS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap13">AN INTERLUDE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIV </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap14">THE BEAUTY OF THE WORLD</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XV </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap15">AN ESCAPE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVI </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap16">ADRIFT IN THE DESERT</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap17">THE HEART'S OWN BITTERNESS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVIII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap18">THE FORGOTTEN CITY</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIX </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap19">THE TRAIL AGAIN</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XX </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap20">THE RUINED MISSION</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXI </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap21">THE END OF THE TRAIL</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +The Heart of the Desert +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE VALLEY OF THE PECOS +</H3> + +<P> +Rhoda hobbled through the sand to the nearest rock. On this she sank +with a groan, clasped her slender foot with both hands and looked about +her helplessly. +</P> + +<P> +She felt very small, very much alone. The infinite wastes of yellow +desert danced in heat waves against the bronze-blue sky. The girl saw +no sign of living thing save a buzzard that swept lazily across the +zenith. She turned dizzily from contemplating the vast emptiness about +her to a close scrutiny of her injured foot. She drew off her thin +satin house slipper painfully and dropped it unheedingly into a bunch +of yucca that crowded against the rock. Her silk stocking followed. +Then she sat in helpless misery, eying her blue-veined foot. +</P> + +<P> +In spite of her evident invalidism, one could but wonder why she made +so little effort to help herself. She sat droopingly on the rock, +gazing from her foot to the far lavender line of the mesas. A tiny, +impotent atom of life, she sat as if the eternal why which the desert +hurls at one overwhelmed her, deprived her of hope, almost of +sensation. There was something of nobility in the steadiness with +which she gazed at the melting distances, something of pathos in her +evident resignation, to her own helplessness and weakness. +</P> + +<P> +The girl was quite unconscious of the fact that a young man was +tramping up the desert behind her. He, however, had spied the white +gown long before Rhoda had sunk to the rock and had laid his course +directly for her. He was a tall fellow, standing well over six feet +and he swung through the heavy sand with an easy stride that covered +distance with astonishing rapidity. As he drew near enough to perceive +Rhoda's yellow head bent above her injured foot, he quickened his pace, +swung round the yucca thicket and pulled off his soft felt hat. +</P> + +<P> +"Good-morning!" he said. "What's the matter?" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda started, hastily covered her foot, and looked up at the tall +khaki-clad figure. She never had seen the young man before, but the +desert is not formal. +</P> + +<P> +"A thing like a little crayfish bit my foot," she answered; "and you +don't know how it hurts!" +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, but I do!" exclaimed the young man. "A scorpion sting! Let me +see it!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda flushed. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, never mind that!" she said. "But if you will go to the Newman +ranch-house for me and ask them to send the buckboard I'll be very +grateful. I—I feel dizzy, you know." +</P> + +<P> +"Gee whiz!" exclaimed the young man. "There's no time for me to run +about the desert if you have a scorpion sting in your foot!" +</P> + +<P> +"Is a scorpion sting dangerous?" asked Rhoda. Then she added, +languidly, "Not that I mind if it is!" +</P> + +<P> +The young man gave her a curious glance. Then he pulled a small case +from his pocket, knelt in the sand and lifted Rhoda's foot in one +slender, strong, brown hand. The instep already was badly swollen. +</P> + +<P> +"Hold tight a minute!" said the young man. +</P> + +<P> +And before Rhoda could protest he had punctured the red center of the +swelling with a little scalpel, had held the cut open and had filled it +with a white powder that bit. Then he pulled a clean handkerchief from +his pocket and tore it in two. With one half he bound the ankle above +the cut tightly. With the other he bandaged the cut itself. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you a doctor?" asked Rhoda faintly. +</P> + +<P> +"Far from it," replied the young man with a chuckle, tightening the +upper bandage until Rhoda's foot was numb. "But I always carry this +little outfit with me; rattlers and scorpions are so thick over on the +ditch. Somebody's apt to be hurt anytime. I'm Charley Cartwell, Jack +Newman's engineer." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" said Rhoda understandingly. "I'm so dizzy I can't see you very +well. This is very good of you. Perhaps now you'd go on and get the +buckboard. Tell them it's for Rhoda, Rhoda Tuttle. I just went out +for a walk and then—" +</P> + +<P> +Her voice trailed into nothingness and she could only steady her +swaying body with both hands against the rock. +</P> + +<P> +"Huh!" grunted young Cartwell. "I go on to the house and leave you +here in the boiling sun!" +</P> + +<P> +"Would you mind hurrying?" asked Rhoda. +</P> + +<P> +"Not at all," returned Cartwell. +</P> + +<P> +He plucked the stocking and slipper from the yucca and dropped them +into his pocket. Then he stooped and lifted Rhoda across his broad +chest. This roused her. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, you can't do this!" she cried, struggling to free herself. +</P> + +<P> +Cartwell merely tightened his hold and swung out at a pace that was +half run, half walk. +</P> + +<P> +"Close your eyes so the sun won't hurt them," he said peremptorily. +</P> + +<P> +Dizzily and confusedly, Rhoda dropped her head back on the broad +shoulder and closed her eyes, with a feeling of security that later on +was to appall her. Long after she was to recall the confidence of this +moment with unbelief and horror. Nor did she dream how many weary days +and hours she one day was to pass with this same brazen sky over her, +this same broad shoulder under her head. +</P> + +<P> +Cartwell looked down at the delicate face lying against his breast, at +the soft yellow hair massed against his sleeve. Into his black eyes +came a look that was passionately tender, and the strong brown hand +that supported Rhoda's shoulders trembled. +</P> + +<P> +In an incredibly short time he was entering the peach orchard that +surrounded the ranch-house. A young man in white flannels jumped from +a hammock in which he had been dozing. +</P> + +<P> +"For heaven's sake!" he exclaimed. "What does this mean?" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda was too ill to reply. Cartwell did not slack his giant stride +toward the house. +</P> + +<P> +"It means," he answered grimly, "that you folks must be crazy to let +Miss Tuttle take a walk in clothes like this! She's got a scorpion +sting in her foot." +</P> + +<P> +The man in flannels turned pale. He hurried along beside Cartwell, +then broke into a run. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll telephone to Gold Rock for the doctor and tell Mrs. Newman." +</P> + +<P> +He started on ahead. +</P> + +<P> +"Never mind the doctor!" called Cartwell. "I've attended to the sting. +Tell Mrs. Jack to have hot water ready." +</P> + +<P> +As Cartwell sprang up the porch steps, Mrs. Newman ran out to meet him. +She was a pretty, rosy girl, with brown eyes and curly brown hair. +</P> + +<P> +"Rhoda! Kut-le!" she cried. "Why didn't I warn her! Put her on the +couch here in the hall, Kut-le. John, tell Li Chung to bring the +hot-water bottles. Here, Rhoda dear, drink this!" +</P> + +<P> +For half an hour the three, with Li Chung hovering in the background, +worked over the girl. Then as they saw her stupor change to a natural +sleep, Katherine gave a sigh that was almost a sob. +</P> + +<P> +"She's all right!" she said. "O Kut-le, if you hadn't come at that +moment!" +</P> + +<P> +Cartwell shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"It might have gone hard with her, she's so delicate. Gee, I'm glad I +ran out of tobacco this morning and thought a two-mile tramp across the +desert for it worth while!" +</P> + +<P> +The three were on the porch now. The young man in flannels, who had +said little but had obeyed orders explicitly eyed Cartwell curiously. +</P> + +<P> +"You're Newman's engineer, aren't you?" he asked. "My name's DeWitt. +You've put us all under great obligations, this morning." +</P> + +<P> +Cartwell took the extended hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you know," he said carefully, "a scorpion sting may or may not +be serious. People have died of them. Mrs. Jack here makes no more of +them than of a mosquito bite, while Jack goes about like a drunken +sailor with one for a day, then forgets it. Miss Tuttle will be all +right when she wakes up. I'm off till dinner time, Mrs. Jack. Jack +will think I've reverted!" +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt stood for a moment watching the tall, lithe figure move through +the peach-trees. He was torn by a strange feeling, half of aversion, +half of charm for the dark young stranger. Then: +</P> + +<P> +"Hold on, Cartwell," he cried. "I'll drive you back in the buckboard." +</P> + +<P> +Katherine Newman, looking after the two, raised her eyebrows, shook her +head, then smiled and went back to Rhoda. +</P> + +<P> +It was mid-afternoon when Rhoda woke. Katherine was sitting near by +with her sewing. +</P> + +<P> +"Well!" said Rhoda wonderingly. "I'm all right, after all!" +</P> + +<P> +Katherine jumped up and took Rhoda's thin little hand joyfully. +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed you are!" she cried. "Thanks to Kut-le!" +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks to whom?" asked Rhoda. "It was a tall young man. He said his +name was Charley Cartwell." +</P> + +<P> +"Yup!" answered Katherine. "Charley Cartwell! His other name is +Kut-le. He'll be in to dinner with Jack, tonight. Isn't he +good-looking, though!" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know. I was so dizzy I couldn't see him. He seemed very +dark. Is he a Spaniard?" +</P> + +<P> +"Spaniard! No!" Katherine was watching Rhoda's languid eyes half +mischievously. "He's part Mescallero, part Pueblo, part Mohave!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda sat erect with flaming face. +</P> + +<P> +"You mean that he's an Indian and I let him carry me! Katherine!" +</P> + +<P> +The mischief in Katherine's brown eyes grew to laughter. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought that would get a rise out of you, you blessed tenderfoot! +What difference does that make? He rescued you from a serious +predicament; and more than that he's a fine fellow and one of Jack's +dearest friends." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda's delicate face still was flushed. +</P> + +<P> +"An Indian! What did John DeWitt say?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" said Katherine, carelessly, "he offered to drive Kut-le back to +the ditch, and he hasn't got home yet. They probably will be very +congenial, John being a Harvard man and Kut-le a Yale!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda's curved lips opened, then closed again. The look of interest +died from her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," she said in her usual weary voice, "I think I'll have a glass +of milk, if I may. Then I'll go out on the porch. You see I'm being +all the trouble to you, Katherine, that I said I would be." +</P> + +<P> +"Trouble!" protested Katherine. "Why, Rhoda Tuttle, if I could just +see you with the old light in your eyes I'd wait on you by inches on my +knees. I would, honestly." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda rubbed a thin cheek against the warm hand that still held hers, +and the mute thanks said more than words. +</P> + +<P> +The veranda of the Newman ranch-house was deep and shaded by green +vines. From the hammock where she lay, a delicate figure amid the +vivid cushions, Rhoda looked upon a landscape that combined all the +perfection of verdure of a northern park with a sense of illimitable +breathing space that should have been fairly intoxicating to her. Two +huge cottonwoods stood beside the porch. Beyond the lawn lay the peach +orchard which vied with the bordering alfalfa fields in fragrance and +color. The yellow-brown of tree-trunks and the white of grazing sheep +against vegetation of richest green were astonishing colors for Rhoda +to find in the desert to which she had been exiled, and in the few days +since her arrival she had not ceased to wonder at them. +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt crossed the orchard, quickening his pace when he saw Rhoda. He +was a tall fellow, blond and well built, though not so tall and lithe +as Cartwell. His dark blue eyes were disconcertingly clear and direct. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Rhoda dear!" he exclaimed as he hurried up the steps. "If you +didn't scare this family! How are you feeling now?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm all right," Rhoda answered languidly. "It was good of you all to +bother so about me. What have you been doing all day?" +</P> + +<P> +"Over at the ditch with Jack and Cartwell. Say, Rhoda, the young +fellow who rescued you is an Indian!" +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt dropped into a big chair by the hammock. He watched the girl +hopefully. It was such a long, long time since she had been interested +in anything! But there was no responsive light in the deep gray eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Katherine told me," she replied. Then, after a pause, as if she felt +it her duty to make conversation, "Did you like him?" +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt spoke slowly, as if he had been considering the matter. +</P> + +<P> +"I've a lot of race prejudice in me, Rhoda. I don't like niggers or +Chinamen or Indians when they get over to the white man's side of the +fence. They are well enough on their own side. However, this Cartwell +chap seems all right. And he rescued you from a beastly serious +situation!" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know that I'm as grateful for that as I ought to be," murmured +Rhoda, half to herself. "It would have been an easy solution." +</P> + +<P> +Her words stung DeWitt. He started forward and seized the small thin +hands in both his own. +</P> + +<P> +"Rhoda, don't!" he pleaded huskily. "Don't give up! Don't lose hope! +If I could only give you some of my strength! Don't talk so! It just +about breaks my heart to hear you." +</P> + +<P> +For a time, Rhoda did not answer. She lay wearily watching the eager, +pleading face so close to her own. Even in her illness, Rhoda was very +lovely. The burnished yellow hair softened the thinness of the face +that was like delicately chiseled marble. The finely cut nose, the +exquisite drooping mouth, the little square chin with its cleft, and +the great gray eyes lost none of their beauty through her weakness. +</P> + +<P> +"John," she said at last, "why won't you look the truth in the face? I +never shall get well. I shall die here instead of in New York, that's +all. Why did you follow me down here? It only tortures you. And, +truly it's not so bad for me. You all have lost your realness to me, +somehow. I shan't mind going, much." +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt's strong face worked but his voice was steady. +</P> + +<P> +"I never shall leave you," he said simply. "You are the one woman in +the world for me. I'd marry you tomorrow if you'd let me." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda shook her head. +</P> + +<P> +"You ought to go away, John, and forget me. You ought to go marry some +fine girl and have a home and a family. I'm just a sick wreck." +</P> + +<P> +"Rhoda," and DeWitt's earnest voice was convincing, "Rhoda, I'd pass up +the healthiest, finest girl on earth for you, just sick you. Why, +can't you see that your helplessness and dependence only deepen your +hold on me? Who wants a thing as fragile and as lovely as you are to +make a home! You pay your way in life just by living! Beauty and +sweetness like yours is enough for a woman to give. I don't want you +to do a thing in the world. Just give yourself to me and let me take +care of you. Rhoda, dear, dear heart!" +</P> + +<P> +"I can't marry unless I'm well," insisted Rhoda, "and I never shall be +well again. I know that you all thought it was for the best, bringing +me down to the desert, but just as soon as I can manage it without +hurting Katherine's and Jack's feelings too much, I'm going back to New +York. If you only knew how the big emptiness of this desert country +adds to my depression!" +</P> + +<P> +"If you go back to New York," persisted DeWitt, "you are going back as +my wife. I'm sick of seeing you dependent on hired care. Why, Rhoda +dear, is it nothing to you that, when you haven't a near relative in +the world, I would gladly die for you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" cried the girl, tears of weakness and pity in her eyes, "you know +that it means everything to me! But I can't marry any one. All I want +is just to crawl away and die in peace. I wish that that Indian hadn't +come upon me so promptly. I'd just have gone to sleep and never +wakened." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't! Don't!" cried DeWitt. "I shall pick you up and hold you +against all the world, if you say that!" +</P> + +<P> +"Hush!" whispered Rhoda, but her smile was very tender. "Some one is +coming through the orchard." +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt reluctantly released the slender hands and leaned back in his +chair. The sun had crossed the peach orchard slowly, breathlessly. It +cast long, slanting shadows along the beautiful alfalfa fields and +turned the willows by the irrigating ditch to a rosy gray. As the sun +sank, song-birds piped and lizards scuttled along the porch rail. The +loveliest part of the New Mexican day had come. +</P> + +<P> +The two young Northerners watched the man who was swinging through the +orchard. It was Cartwell. Despite his breadth of shoulder, the young +Indian looked slender, though it was evident that only panther strength +could produce such panther grace. He crossed the lawn and stood at the +foot of the steps; one hand crushed his soft hat against his hip, and +the sun turned his close-cropped black hair to blue bronze. For an +instant none of the three spoke. It was as if each felt the import of +this meeting which was to be continued through such strange +vicissitudes. Cartwell, however, was not looking at DeWitt but at +Rhoda, and she returned his gaze, surprised at the beauty of his face, +with its large, long-lashed, Mohave eyes that were set well apart and +set deeply as are the eyes of those whose ancestors have lived much in +the open glare of the sun; with the straight, thin-nostriled nose; with +the stern, cleanly modeled mouth and the square chin, below. And +looking into the young Indian's deep black eyes, Rhoda felt within +herself a vague stirring that for a second wiped the languor from her +eyes. +</P> + +<P> +Cartwell spoke first, easily, in the quiet, well-modulated voice of the +Indian. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello! All safe, I see! Mr. Newman will be here shortly." He seated +himself on the upper step with his back against a pillar and fanned +himself with his hat. "Jack's working too hard. I want him to go to +the coast for a while and let me run the ditch. But he won't. He's as +pig-headed as a Mohave." +</P> + +<P> +"Are the Mohaves so pig-headed then?" asked DeWitt, smiling. +</P> + +<P> +Cartwell returned the smile with a flash of white teeth. +</P> + +<P> +"You bet they are! My mother was part Mohave and she used to say that +only the Pueblo in her kept her from being as stiff-necked as yucca. +You're all over the dizziness, Miss Tuttle?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Rhoda. "You were very good to me." +</P> + +<P> +Cartwell shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid I can't take special credit for that. Will you two ride to +the ditch with me tomorrow? I think Miss Tuttle will be interested in +Jack's irrigation dream, don't you, Mr. DeWitt?" +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt answered a little stiffly. +</P> + +<P> +"It's out of the question for Miss Tuttle to attempt such a trip, thank +you." +</P> + +<P> +But to her own as well as DeWitt's astonishment Rhoda spoke +protestingly. +</P> + +<P> +"You must let me refuse my own invitations, John. Perhaps the ditch +would interest me." +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt replied hastily, "Good gracious, Rhoda! If anything will +interest you, don't let me interfere." +</P> + +<P> +There was protest in his voice against Rhoda's being interested in an +Indian's suggestion. Both Rhoda and Cartwell felt this and there was +an awkward pause. This was broken by a faint halloo from the corral +and DeWitt rose abruptly. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll go down and meet Jack," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll do a lot of stunts if you're willing," Cartwell said serenely, +his eyes following DeWitt's broad back inscrutably. "The desert is +like a story-book if one learns to read it. If you would be interested +to learn, I would be keen to teach you." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda's gray eyes lifted to the young man's somberly. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm too dull these days to learn anything," she said. "But I—I +didn't used to be! Truly I didn't! I used to be so alive, so strong! +I believed in everything, myself most of all! Truly I did!" She +paused, wondering at her lack of reticence. +</P> + +<P> +Cartwell, however, was looking at her with something in his gaze so +quietly understanding that Rhoda smiled. It was a slow smile that +lifted and deepened the corners of Rhoda's lips, that darkened her gray +eyes to black, an unforgetable smile to the loveliness of which Rhoda's +friends never could accustom themselves. At the sight of it, Cartwell +drew a deep breath, then leaned toward her and spoke with curious +earnestness. +</P> + +<P> +"You make me feel the same way that starlight on the desert makes me +feel." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda replied in astonishment, "Why, you mustn't speak that way to me! +It's not—not—" +</P> + +<P> +"Not conventional?" suggested Cartwell. "What difference does that +make, between you and me?" +</P> + +<P> +Again came the strange stirring in Rhoda in response to Cartwell's +gaze. He was looking at her with something of tragedy in the dark +young eyes, something of sternness and determination in the clean-cut +lips. Rhoda wondered, afterward, what would have been said if +Katherine had not chosen this moment to come out on the porch. +</P> + +<P> +"Rhoda," she asked, "do you feel like dressing for dinner? Hello, +Kut-le, it's time you moved toward soap and water, seems to me!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yessum!" replied Cartwell meekly. He rose and helped Rhoda from the +hammock, then held the door open for her. DeWitt and Newman emerged +from the orchard as he crossed to Katherine's chair. +</P> + +<P> +"Is she very sick, Mrs. Jack?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +Katherine nodded soberly. +</P> + +<P> +"Desperately sick. Her father and mother were killed in a railroad +wreck a year ago. Rhoda wasn't seriously hurt but she has never gotten +over the shock. She has been failing ever since. The doctor feared +consumption and sent her down here. But she's just dying by inches. +Oh, it's too awful! I can't believe it! I can't realize it!" +</P> + +<P> +Cartwell stood in silence for a moment, his lips compressed, his eyes +inscrutable. +</P> + +<P> +Then, "I've met her at last," he said. "It makes me believe in Fate." +</P> + +<P> +Katherine's pretty lips parted in amazement. +</P> + +<P> +"Goodness! Are you often taken this way!" she gasped. +</P> + +<P> +"Never before!" replied Cartwell serenely. "Jack said she'd broken her +engagement to DeWitt because of her illness, so it's a fair war!" +</P> + +<P> +"Kut-le!" exclaimed Katherine. "Don't talk like a yellow-backed novel! +It's not a life or death affair." +</P> + +<P> +"You can't tell as to that," answered Cartwell with a curious little +smile. "You mustn't forget that I'm an Indian." +</P> + +<P> +And he turned to greet the two men who were mounting the steps. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE CAUCASIAN WAY +</H3> + + +<P> +When Rhoda entered the dining-room some of her pallor seemed to have left +her. She was dressed in a gown of an elusive pink that gave a rose flush +to the marble fineness of her face. +</P> + +<P> +Katherine was chatting with a wiry, middle-aged man whom she introduced +to Rhoda as Mr. Porter, an Arizona mining man. Porter stood as if +stunned for a moment by Rhoda's delicate loveliness. Then, as was the +custom of every man who met Rhoda, he looked vaguely about for something +to do for her. Jack Newman forestalled him by taking Rhoda's hand and +leading her to the table. Jack's curly blond hair looked almost white in +contrast with his tanned face. He was not as tall as either Cartwell or +DeWitt but he was strong and clean-cut and had a boyish look despite the +heavy responsibilities of his five-thousand-acre ranch. +</P> + +<P> +"There," he said, placing Rhoda beside Porter; "just attach Porter's +scalp to your belt with the rest of your collection. It'll be a new +experience to him. Don't be afraid, Porter." +</P> + +<P> +Billy Porter was not in the least embarrassed. +</P> + +<P> +"I've come too near to losing my scalp to the Apaches to be scared by +Miss Tuttle. Anyhow I gave her my scalp without a yelp the minute I laid +eyes on her." +</P> + +<P> +"Here! That's not fair!" cried John DeWitt. "The rest of us had to work +to get her to take ours!" +</P> + +<P> +"Our what?" asked Cartwell, entering the room at the last word. He was +looking very cool and well groomed in white flannels. +</P> + +<P> +Billy Porter stared at the newcomer and dropped his soup-spoon with a +splash. "What in thunder!" Rhoda heard him mutter. +</P> + +<P> +Jack Newman spoke hastily. +</P> + +<P> +"This is Mr. Cartwell, our irrigation engineer, Mr. Porter." +</P> + +<P> +Porter responded to the young Indian's courteous bow with a surly nod, +and proceeded with his soup. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd as soon eat with a nigger as an Injun," he said to Rhoda under cover +of some laughing remark of Katherine's to Cartwell. +</P> + +<P> +"He seems to be nice," said Rhoda vaguely. "Maybe, though, Katherine +<I>is</I> a little liberal, making him one of the family." +</P> + +<P> +"Is there any hunting at all in this open desert country?" asked DeWitt. +"I certainly hate to go back to New York with nothing but sunburn to show +for my trip!" +</P> + +<P> +"Coyotes, wildcats, rabbits and partridges," volunteered Cartwell. "I +know where there is a nest of wildcats up on the first mesa. And I know +an Indian who will tan the pelts for you, like velvet. A jack-rabbit +pelt well tanned is an exquisite thing too, by the way. I will go on a +hunt with you whenever the ditch can be left." +</P> + +<P> +"And while they are chasing round after jacks, Miss Tuttle," cut in Billy +Porter neatly, "I will take you anywhere you want to go. I'll show you +things these kids never dreamed of! I knew this country in the days of +Apache raids and the pony express." +</P> + +<P> +"That will be fine!" replied Rhoda. "But I'd rather hear the stories +than take any trips. Did you spend your boyhood in New Mexico? Did you +see real Indian fights? Did you—?" She paused with an involuntary +glance at Cartwell. +</P> + +<P> +Porter, too, looked at the dark young face across the table and something +in its inscrutable calm seemed to madden him. +</P> + +<P> +"My boyhood here? Yes, and a happy boyhood it was! I came home from the +range one day and found my little fifteen-year-old sister and a little +neighbor friend of hers hung up by the back of their necks on butcher +hooks. They had been tortured to death by Apaches. I don't like +Indians!" +</P> + +<P> +There was an awkward pause at the dinner table. Li Chung removed the +soup-plates noiselessly. Cartwell's brown fingers tapped the tablecloth. +But he was not looking at Porter's scowling face. He was watching +Rhoda's gray eyes which were fastened on him with a look half of pity, +half of aversion. When he spoke it was as if he cared little for the +opinions of the others but would set himself right with her alone. +</P> + +<P> +"My father," he said, "came home from the hunt, one day, to find his +mother and three sisters lying in their own blood. The whites had gotten +them. They all had been scalped and were dead except the baby, three +years old. She—she—my father killed her." +</P> + +<P> +A gasp of horror went round the table. +</P> + +<P> +"I think such stories are inexcusable here!" exclaimed Katherine +indignantly. +</P> + +<P> +"So do I, Mrs. Jack," replied Cartwell. "I won't do it again." +</P> + +<P> +Porter's face stained a deep mahogany and he bowed stiffly to Katherine. +</P> + +<P> +"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Newman!" +</P> + +<P> +"I feel as if I were visiting a group of anarchists," said Rhoda +plaintively, "and had innocently passed round a bomb on which to make +conversation!" +</P> + +<P> +Jack Newman laughed, the tension relaxed, and in a moment the dinner was +proceeding merrily, though Porter and Cartwell carefully avoided speaking +to each other. Most of the conversation centered around Rhoda. +Katherine always had been devoted to her friend. And though men always +had paid homage to Rhoda, since her illness had enhanced her delicacy, +and had made her so appealingly helpless, they were drawn to her as +surely as bee to flower. Old and young, dignified and happy-go-lucky, +all were moved irresistibly to do something for her, to coddle her, to +undertake impossible missions, self-imposed. +</P> + +<P> +Porter from his place of vantage beside her kept her plate heaped with +delicacies, calmly removed the breast of chicken from his own plate to +hers, all but fed her with a spoon when she refused to more than nibble +at her meal. +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt's special night-mare was that drafts were blowing on her. He kept +excusing himself from the table to open and close windows and doors, to +hang over her chair so as to feel for himself if the wind touched her. +</P> + +<P> +Katherine and Jack kept Li Chung trotting to the kitchen for different +dainties with which to tempt her. Only Cartwell did nothing. He kept up +what seemed to be his usual fire of amiable conversation and watched +Rhoda constantly through inscrutable black eyes. But he made no attempt +to serve her. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda was scarcely conscious of the deference showed her, partly because +she had received it so long, partly because that detached frame of mind +of the hopeless invalid made the life about her seem shadowy and unreal. +Nothing really mattered much. She lay back in her chair with the little +wistful smile, the somber light in her eyes that had become habitual to +her. +</P> + +<P> +After dinner was finished Katherine led the way to the living-room. To +his unspeakable pride, Rhoda took Billy Porter's arm and he guided her +listless footsteps carefully, casting pitying glances on his less favored +friends. Jack wheeled a Morris chair before the fireplace—desert nights +are cool—and John DeWitt hurried for a shawl, while Katherine gave every +one orders that no one heeded in the least. +</P> + +<P> +Cartwell followed after the others, slowly lighted a cigarette, then +seated himself at the piano. For the rest of the evening he made no +attempt to join in the fragmentary conversation. Instead he sang softly, +as if to himself, touching the keys so gently that their notes seemed +only the echo of his mellow voice. He sang bits of Spanish love-songs, +of Mexican lullabies. But for the most part he kept to Indian +melodies—wistful love-songs and chants that touched the listener with +strange poignancy. +</P> + +<P> +There was little talk among the group around the fire. The three men +smoked peacefully. Katherine and Jack sat close to each other, on the +davenport, content to be together. DeWitt lounged where he could watch +Rhoda, as did Billy Porter, the latter hanging on every word and movement +of this lovely, fragile being, as if he would carry forever in his heart +the memory of her charm. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda herself watched the fire. She was tired, tired to the inmost fiber +of her being. The only real desire left her was that she might crawl off +somewhere and die in peace. But these good friends of hers had set their +faces against the inevitable and it was only decency to humor them. +Once, quite unconscious that the others were watching her, she lifted her +hands and eyed them idly. They were almost transparent and shook a +little. The group about the fire stirred pityingly. John and Katherine +and Jack remembered those shadowy hands when they had been rosy and full +of warmth and tenderness. Billy Porter leaned across and with his hard +brown palms pressed the trembling fingers down into Rhoda's lap. She +looked up in astonishment. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't hold 'em so!" said Billy hoarsely. "I can't stand to see 'em!" +</P> + +<P> +"They <I>are</I> pretty bad," said Rhoda, smiling. It was her rare, slow, +unforgetable smile. Porter swallowed audibly. Cartwell at the piano +drifted from a Mohave lament to <I>La Paloma</I>. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"The day that I left my home for the rolling sea,<BR> +I said, 'Mother dear, O pray to thy God for me!'<BR> +But e'er I set sail I went a fond leave to take<BR> +Of Nina, who wept as if her poor heart would break!" +</P> + +<P> +The mellow, haunting melody caught Rhoda's fancy at once, as Cartwell +knew it would. She turned to the sinewy figure at the piano. DeWitt was +wholesome and strong, but this young Indian seemed vitality itself. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Nina, if I should die and o'er ocean's foam<BR> +Softly at dusk a fair dove should come,<BR> +Open thy window, Nina, for it would be<BR> +My faithful soul come back to thee——" +</P> + +<P> +Something in Cartwell's voice stirred Rhoda as had his eyes. For the +first time in months Rhoda felt poignantly that it would be hard to be +cut down with all her life unlived. The mellow voice ceased and +Cartwell, rising, lighted a fresh cigarette. +</P> + +<P> +"I am going to get up with the rabbits, tomorrow," he said, "so I'll trot +to bed now." +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt, impelled by that curious sense of liking for the young Indian +that fought down his aversion, said, "The music was bully, Cartwell!" but +Cartwell only smiled as if at the hint of patronage in the voice and +strolled to his own room. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda slept late the following morning. She had not, in her three nights +in the desert country, become accustomed to the silence that is not the +least of the desert's splendors. It seemed to her that the nameless +unknown Mystery toward which her life was drifting was embodied in this +infinite silence. So sleep would not come to her until dawn. Then the +stir of the wind in the trees, the bleat of sheep, the trill of +mocking-birds lulled her to sleep. +</P> + +<P> +As the brilliancy of the light in her room increased there drifted across +her uneasy dreams the lilting notes of a whistled call. Pure and +liquidly sweet they persisted until there came to Rhoda that faint stir +of hope and longing that she had experienced the day before. She opened +her eyes and finally, as the call continued, she crept languidly from her +bed and peered from behind the window-shade. Cartwell, in his khaki +suit, his handsome head bared to the hot sun, leaned against a peach-tree +while he watched Rhoda's window. +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder what he wakened me for?" she thought half resentfully. "I +can't go to sleep again, so I may as well dress and have breakfast." +</P> + +<P> +Hardly had she seated herself at her solitary meal when Cartwell appeared. +</P> + +<P> +"Dear me!" he exclaimed. "The birds and Mr. DeWitt have been up this +long time." +</P> + +<P> +"What is John doing?" asked Rhoda carelessly. +</P> + +<P> +"He's gone up on the first mesa for the wildcats I spoke of last night. +I thought perhaps you might care to take a drive before it got too hot. +You didn't sleep well last night, did you?" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda answered whimsically. +</P> + +<P> +"It's the silence. It thunders at me so! I will get used to it soon. +Perhaps I ought to drive. I suppose I ought to try everything." +</P> + +<P> +Not at all discouraged, apparently, by this lack of enthusiasm, Cartwell +said: +</P> + +<P> +"I won't let you overdo. I'll have the top-buggy for you and we'll go +slowly and carefully." +</P> + +<P> +"No," said Rhoda, suddenly recalling that, after all, Cartwell was an +Indian, "I don't think I will go. Katherine will have all sorts of +objections." +</P> + +<P> +The Indian smiled sardonically. +</P> + +<P> +"I already have Mrs. Jack's permission. Billy Porter will be in, in a +moment. If you would rather have a white man than an Indian, as escort, +I'm quite willing to retreat." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda flushed delicately. +</P> + +<P> +"Your frankness is almost—almost impertinent, Mr. Cartwell." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't mean it that way at all!" protested the Indian. "It's just that +I saw so plainly what was going on in your mind and it piqued me. If it +will be one bit pleasanter for you with Billy, I'll go right out and hunt +him up for you now." +</P> + +<P> +The young man's naïveté completely disarmed Rhoda. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't be silly!" she said. "Go get your famous top-buggy and I'll be +ready in a minute." +</P> + +<P> +In a short time Rhoda and Cartwell, followed by many injunctions from +Katherine, started off toward the irrigating ditch. At a slow pace they +drove through the peach orchard into the desert. As they reached the +open trail, thrush and to-hee fluttered from the cholla. Chipmunk and +cottontail scurried before them. Overhead a hawk dipped in its reeling +flight. Cartwell watched the girl keenly. Her pale face was very lovely +in the brilliant morning light, though the somberness of her wide, gray +eyes was deepened. That same muteness and patience in her trouble which +so touched other men touched Cartwell, but he only said: +</P> + +<P> +"There never was anything bigger and finer than this open desert, was +there?" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda turned from staring at the distant mesas and eyed the young Indian +wonderingly. +</P> + +<P> +"Why!" she exclaimed, "I hate it! You know that sick fear that gets you +when you try to picture eternity to yourself? That's the way this +barrenness and awful distance affects me. I hate it!" +</P> + +<P> +"But you won't hate it!" cried Cartwell. "You must let me show you its +bigness. It's as healing as the hand of God." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda shuddered. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't talk about it, please! I'll try to think of something else." +</P> + +<P> +They drove in silence for some moments. Rhoda, her thin hands clasped in +her lap, resolutely stared at the young Indian's profile. In the unreal +world in which she drifted, she needed some thought of strength, some +hope beyond her own, to which to cling. She was lonely—lonely as some +outcast watching with sick eyes the joy of the world to which he is +denied. As she stared at the stern young profile beside her, into her +heart crept the now familiar thrill. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly Cartwell turned and looked at her quizzically. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, what are your conclusions?" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda shook her head. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know, except that it's hard to realize that you are an Indian." +</P> + +<P> +Cartwell's voice was ironical. +</P> + +<P> +"The only good Indian is a dead Indian, you know. I'm liable to break +loose any time, believe me!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda's eyes were on the far lavender line where the mesa melted into the +mountains. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, and then what?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +Cartwell's eyes narrowed, but Rhoda did not see. +</P> + +<P> +"Then I'm liable to follow Indian tradition and take whatever I want, by +whatever means!" +</P> + +<P> +"My! My!" said Rhoda, "that sounds bludgy! And what are you liable to +want?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I want the same thing that a great many white men want. I'm going +to have it myself, though!" His handsome face glowed curiously as he +looked at Rhoda. +</P> + +<P> +But the girl was giving his words small heed. Her eyes still were turned +toward the desert, as though she had forgotten her companion. Sand +whirls crossed the distant levels, ceaselessly. Huge and menacing, they +swirled out from the mesa's edge, crossed the desert triumphantly, then, +at contact with rock or cholla thicket, collapsed and disappeared. +Endless, merciless, hopeless the yellow desert quivered against the +bronze blue sky. For the first time dazed hopelessness gave way in Rhoda +to fear. The young Indian, watching the girl's face, beheld in it what +even DeWitt never had seen there—beheld deadly fear. He was silent for +a moment, then he leaned toward her and put a strong brown hand over her +trembling little fists. His voice was deep and soft. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't," he said, "don't!" +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps it was the subtle, not-to-be-fathomed influence of the desert +which fights all sham; perhaps it was that Rhoda merely had reached the +limit of her heroic self-containment and that, had DeWitt or Newman been +with her, she would have given way in the same manner; perhaps it was +that the young Indian's presence had in it a quality that roused new life +in her. Whatever the cause; the listless melancholy suddenly left +Rhoda's gray eyes and they were wild and black with fear. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't die!" she panted. "I can't leave my life unlived! I can't +crawl on much longer like a sick animal without a soul. I want to live! +To live!" +</P> + +<P> +"Look at me!" said Cartwell. "Look at me, not at the desert!" Then as +she turned to him, "Listen, Rhoda! You shall not die! I will make you +well! You shall not die!" +</P> + +<P> +For a long minute the two gazed deep into each other's eyes, and the +sense of quickening blood touched Rhoda's heart. Then they both woke to +the sound of hoof-beats behind them and John DeWitt, with a wildcat +thrown across his saddle, rode up. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello! I've shouted one lung out! I thought you people were +petrified!" He looked curiously from Rhoda's white face to Cartwell's +inscrutable one. "Do you think you ought to have attempted this trip, +Rhoda?" he asked gently. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, we've taken it very slowly," answered the Indian. "And we are going +to turn back now." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't think I've overdone," said Rhoda. "But perhaps we have had +enough." +</P> + +<P> +"All right," said Cartwell. "If Mr. DeWitt will change places with me, +I'll ride on to the ditch and he can drive you back." +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt assented eagerly and, the change made, Cartwell lifted his hat and +was gone. Rhoda and John returned in a silence that lasted until DeWitt +lifted Rhoda from the buggy to the veranda. Then he said: +</P> + +<P> +"Rhoda, I don't like to have you go off alone with Cartwell. I wish you +wouldn't." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"John, don't be silly! He goes about with Katherine all the time." +</P> + +<P> +John only shook his head and changed the subject. That afternoon, +however, Billy Porter buttonholed DeWitt in the corral where the New +Yorker was watching the Arizonian saddle his fractious horse. When the +horse was ready at the post, "Look here, DeWitt," said Billy, an +embarrassed look in his honest brown eyes, "I don't want you to think I'm +buttin' in, but some one ought to watch that young Injun. Anybody with +one eye can see he's crazy about Miss Rhoda." +</P> + +<P> +John was too startled to be resentful. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean?" he exclaimed. "Cartwell is a great friend of the +Newmans'." +</P> + +<P> +"That's why I came to you. They're plumb locoed about the fellow, like +the rest of the Easterners around here." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know anything against him?" insisted DeWitt. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, man, he's an Injun, and half Apache at that! That's enough to know +against him!" +</P> + +<P> +"What makes you think he's interested in Miss Tuttle?" asked John. +</P> + +<P> +Porter flushed through his tan. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," he said sheepishly, "I seen him come down the hall at dawn this +morning. Us Westerners are early risers, you know, and when he reached +Miss Turtle's door, he pulled a little slipper out of his pocket and +kissed it and put it in front of the sill." +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt scowled, then he laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"He's no worse than the rest of us that way! I'll watch, him, though +perhaps it's only your prejudice against Indians and not really a matter +to worry about." +</P> + +<P> +Porter sighed helplessly. +</P> + +<P> +"All right! All right! Just remember, DeWitt, I warned you!" +</P> + +<P> +He mounted, then held in his horse while the worried look gave place to +one so sad, yet so manly, that John never forgot it. +</P> + +<P> +"I hope you appreciate that girl, DeWitt. She—she's a thoroughbred! My +God! When you think of a sweet thing like that dying and these Injun +squaws living! I hope you'll watch her, DeWitt. If anything happens to +her through you not watching her, I'll come back on you for it! I ain't +got any rights except the rights that any living man has got to take care +of any white thing like her. They get me hard when they're dainty like +that. And she's the daintiest I ever seen!" +</P> + +<P> +He rode away, shaking his head ominously. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +INDIAN AND CAUCASIAN +</H3> + + +<P> +DeWitt debated with himself for some time as to whether or not he ought +to speak to Jack of Porter's warning. Finally he decided that Porter's +suspicions would only anger Jack, who was intensely loyal to his +friends. He determined to keep silence until he had something more +tangible on which to found his complaint than Billy's bitter prejudice +against all Indians. He had implicit faith in Rhoda's love for +himself. If any vague interest in life could come to her through the +young Indian, he felt that he could endure his presence. In the +meantime he would guard Rhoda without cessation. +</P> + +<P> +In the days that followed, Rhoda grew perceptibly weaker, and her +friends went about with aching hearts under an assumed cheerfulness of +manner that deceived Rhoda least of any one. Rhoda herself did not +complain and this of itself added a hundredfold to the pathos of the +situation. Her unfailing sweetness and patience touched the healthy, +hardy young people who were so devoted to her more than the most +justifiable impatience on her part. +</P> + +<P> +Time and again Katherine saw DeWitt and Jack leave the girl's side with +tears in their eyes. But Cartwell watched the girl with inscrutable +gaze. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda still hated the desert. The very unchanging loveliness of the +days wearied her. Morning succeeded morning and noon followed noon, +with always the same soft breeze stirring the orchard, always the clear +yellow sunlight burning and dazzling her eyes, always the unvarying +monotony of bleating sheep and lowing herds and at evening the hoot of +owls. The brooding tenderness of the sky she did not see. The +throbbing of the great, quiet southern stars stirred her only with a +sense of helpless loneliness that was all but unendurable. And still, +from who knows what source, she found strength to meet the days and her +friends with that unfailing sweetness that was as poignant as the +clinging fingers of a sick child. +</P> + +<P> +Jack, Katherine, DeWitt, Cartwell, all were unwearying in their effort +to amuse her. And yet for some reason. Cartwell alone was able to +rouse her listless eyes to interest. Even DeWitt found himself eagerly +watching the young Indian, less to guard Rhoda than to discover what in +the Apache so piqued his curiosity. He had to admit, however +reluctantly, that Kut-le, as he and Rhoda now called him with the +others, was a charming companion. +</P> + +<P> +Neither DeWitt nor Rhoda ever before had known an Indian. Most of +their ideas of the race were founded on childhood reading of Cooper. +Kut-le was quite as cultured, quite as well-mannered and quite as +intelligent as any of their Eastern friends. But in many other +qualities he differed from them. He possessed a frank pride in himself +and his blood that might have belonged to some medieval prince who +would not take the trouble outwardly to underestimate himself. Closely +allied to this was his habit of truthfulness. This was not a blatant +bluntness that irritated the hearer but a habit of valuing persons and +things at their intrinsic worth, a habit of mental honesty as bizarre +to Rhoda and John as was the young Indian's frank pride. +</P> + +<P> +His attitude toward Rhoda piqued her while it amused her. Since her +childhood, men had treated her with deference, had paid almost abject +tribute to her loveliness and bright charm. Cartwell was delightfully +considerate of her. He was uniformly courteous to her. But it was the +courtesy of <I>noblesse oblige</I>, without a trace of deference in it. +</P> + +<P> +One afternoon Kut-le sat alone on the veranda with Rhoda. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know," he said, rumpling his black hair, "that I think DeWitt +has decided that I will bear watching!" +</P> + +<P> +"Well," answered Rhoda idly, "and won't you?" +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le chuckled. +</P> + +<P> +"Would you prefer that I show the lurking savage beneath this false +shell of good manners?" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda smiled back at him. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course you are an Indian, after all. It's rather too bad of you +not to live up to any of our ideals. Your manners are as nice as John +DeWitt's. I'd be quite frantic about you if you would drop them and go +on the war-path." +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le threw back his head and laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you ignorant young thing! It's lucky for you—and for me—that +you have come West to grow up and complete your education! But DeWitt +needn't worry. I don't need watching yet! First, I'm going to make +you well. I know how and he doesn't. After that is done, he'd better +watch!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda's eyebrows began to go up. Kut-le never had recalled by word or +look her outburst in the desert the morning of their first ride +together, though they had taken several since. Rhoda seldom mentioned +her illness now and her friends respected her feeling. But now Kut-le +smiled at her disapproving brows. +</P> + +<P> +"I've waited for the others to get busy," he said, "but they act +foolish. Half the trouble with you is mental. You need a boss. Now, +you don't eat enough, in spite of the eggs and beef and fruit that that +dear Mrs. Jack sets before you. See how your hands shake this minute!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda could think of no reply sufficiently crushing for this forward +young Indian. While she was turning several over in her mind, Kut-le +went into the house and returned with a glass of milk. +</P> + +<P> +"I wish you'd drink this," he said. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda's brows still were arched haughtily. +</P> + +<P> +"No, thank you," she said frigidly; "I don't wish you to undertake the +care of my health." +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le made no reply but held the glass steadily before her. +Involuntarily, Rhoda looked up. The young Indian was watching her with +eyes so clear, so tender, with that strange look of tragedy belying +their youth, with that something so compelling in their quiet depths, +that once more her tired pulses quickened. Rhoda looked from Kut-le +out to the twisting sand-whirls, then she took the glass of milk and +drank it. She would not have done this for any of the others and both +she and Kut-le knew it. Thereafter, he deliberately set himself to +watching her and it seemed as if he must exhaust his ingenuity devising +means for her comfort. Slowly Rhoda acquired a definite interest in +the young Indian. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you really civilized, Kut-le?" she asked one afternoon when the +young man had brought a little white desert owl to her hammock for her +inspection. +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le tossed the damp hair from his forehead and looked at the sweet +wistful face against the crimson pillows. For a moment Rhoda felt as +if his young strength enveloped her like the desert sun. +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" he asked at last. "You said the other day that I was too much +civilized." +</P> + +<P> +"I know, but—" Rhoda hesitated for words, "I'm too much civilized +myself to understand, but sometimes there's a look in your eyes that +something, I suppose it's a forgotten instinct, tells me means that you +are wild to let all this go—" she waved a thin hand toward cultivated +fields and corral—"and take to the open desert." +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le said nothing for a moment, though his face lighted with joy at +her understanding. Then he turned toward the desert and Rhoda saw the +look of joy change to one so full of unutterable longing that her heart +was stirred to sudden pity. However, an instant later, he turned to +her with the old impassive expression. +</P> + +<P> +"Right beneath my skin," he said, "is the Apache. Tell me, Miss Rhoda, +what's the use of it all?" +</P> + +<P> +"Use?" asked Rhoda, staring at the blue sky above the peach-trees. "I +am a fit person to ask what is the use of anything! Of course, +civilization is the only thing that lives. I can't get your point of +view at all." +</P> + +<P> +"Huh!" sniffed Kut-le. "It's too bad Indians don't write books! If my +people had been putting their internal mechanism on paper for a +thousand years, you'd have no more trouble getting my point of view +than I do yours." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda's face as she eyed the stern young profile was very sympathetic. +Kut-le, turning to her, surprised upon her face that rare, tender smile +for which all who knew her watched. His face flushed and his fine +hands clasped and unclasped. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me about it, Kut-le, if you can." +</P> + +<P> +"I can't tell you. The desert would show you its own power if you +would give it a chance. No one can describe the call to you. I +suppose if I answered it and went back, you would call it +retrogression?" +</P> + +<P> +"What would you call it?" asked Rhoda. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know. It would depend on my mood. I only know that the ache +is there." His eyes grew somber and beads of sweat appeared on his +forehead. "The ache to be there—free in the desert! To feel the hot +sun in my face as I work the trail! To sleep with the naked stars in +my face! To be— Oh, I can't make you understand, and I'd rather you +understood than any one in the world! You could understand, if only +you were desert-taught. When you are well and strong—" +</P> + +<P> +"But why don't you go back?" interrupted Rhoda. +</P> + +<P> +"Because," replied Kut-le slowly, "the Indian is dying. I hope that by +living as a white, I may live. Up till recently I have worked blindly +and hopelessly, but now I see light." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you?" asked Rhoda with interest. "What have you found?" +</P> + +<P> +"It isn't mine yet." Kut-le looked at the girl exultantly and there +was a triumphant note in his voice. "But it shall be mine! I will +make it mine! And it is worth the sacrifice of my race." +</P> + +<P> +A vague look of surprise crossed Rhoda's face but she spoke calmly: +</P> + +<P> +"To sacrifice one's race is a serious thing. I can't think of anything +that would make that worth while. Here comes Mr. DeWitt. It must be +dinner time. John, come up and see a little desert owl at close range. +Kut-le has all the desert at his beck and call!" +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le persuaded Rhoda to change the morning rides, which seemed only +to exhaust her, to the shortest of evening strolls. Nearly always +DeWitt accompanied them. Sometimes they went alone, though John was +never very far distant. +</P> + +<P> +One moonlit night Kut-le and Rhoda stood alone at the corral bars. The +whole world was radiant silver moonlight on the desert, on the +undulating alfalfa; moonlight filtering through the peach-trees and +shimmering on Rhoda's drooping head as she leaned against the bars in +the weary attitude habitual to her. Kut-le stood before her, erect and +strong in his white flannels. His handsome head was thrown back a +little, as was his custom when speaking earnestly. His arms were +folded across his deep chest and he stood so still that Rhoda could see +his arms rise and fall with his breath. +</P> + +<P> +"It really is great work!" he was saying eagerly. "It seems to me that +a civil engineer has tremendous opportunities to do really big things. +Some of Kipling's stories of them are bully." +</P> + +<P> +"Aren't they!" answered Rhoda sympathetically. +</P> + +<P> +"There is a big thing in my favor too. The whites make no +discrimination against an Indian in the professions. In fact every one +gives him a boost in passing!" +</P> + +<P> +"Why shouldn't they? You have as good a brain and are as attractive as +any man of my acquaintance!" +</P> + +<P> +The young man drew a quick breath. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you really mean that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course! Why shouldn't I? Isn't the moonlight uncanny on the +desert?" +</P> + +<P> +But Kut-le did not heed her attempt to change the subject. +</P> + +<P> +"There are unlimited opportunities for me to make good, now that the +government is putting up so many dams. I believe that I can go to the +top with any man, don't you, Miss Rhoda?" +</P> + +<P> +"I do, indeed!" replied Rhoda sincerely. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, then, Miss Rhoda, will you marry me?" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda raised her head in speechless amazement. +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le's glowing eyes contracted. +</P> + +<P> +"You are not surprised!" he exclaimed a little fiercely, "You must have +seen how it has been with me ever since you came. And you have been +so—so bully to me!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda looked helplessly into the young man's face. She was so fragile +that she seemed but an evanescent part of the moonlight. +</P> + +<P> +"But," she said slowly, "you must know that this is impossible. I +couldn't think of marrying you, Kut-le!" +</P> + +<P> +There was a moment's silence. An owl called from the desert. The +night wind swept from the fragrant orchard. When he spoke again, +Kut-le's voice was husky. +</P> + +<P> +"Is it because I am an Indian?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," answered Rhoda, "partly. But I don't love you, anyhow." +</P> + +<P> +"But," eagerly, "if you did love me, would my being an Indian make any +difference? Isn't my blood pure? Isn't it old?" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda stood still. The pain in Kut-le's voice was piercing through to +the shadow world in which she lived. Her voice was troubled. +</P> + +<P> +"But I don't love you, so what's the use of considering the rest? If I +ever marry any one it will be John DeWitt." +</P> + +<P> +"But couldn't you," insisted the tragically deep voice, "couldn't you +ever love me?" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda answered wearily. One could not, it seemed, even die in peace! +</P> + +<P> +"I can't think of love or marriage any more. I am a dying woman. Let +me go into the mist, Kut-le, without a pang for our friendship, with +just the pleasant memory of your goodness to me. Surely you cannot +love me as I am!" +</P> + +<P> +"I love you for the wonderful possibilities I see in you. I love you +in spite of your illness. I will make you well before I marry you. +The Indian in me has strength to make you well. And I will cherish you +as white men cherish their wives." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda raised her hand commandingly and in her voice was that boundless +vanity of the white, which is as old as the race. +</P> + +<P> +"No! No! Don't speak of this again! You are an Indian but one +removed from savagery. I am a white! I couldn't think of marrying +you!" Then her tender heart failed her and her voice trembled. "But +still I am your friend, Kut-le. Truly I am your friend." +</P> + +<P> +The Indian was silent so long that Rhoda was a little frightened. Then +he spoke slowly. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, you are white and I am red. But before all that, you are a woman +of exquisite possibilities and I am a man who by all of nature's laws +would make a fitting mate for you. You can love me, when you are well, +as you could love no other man. And I—dear one, I love you +passionately! I love you tenderly! I love you enough to give up my +race for you. I am an Indian, Rhoda, but first of all I am a man. +Rhoda, will you marry me?" +</P> + +<P> +A thrill, poignant, heart-stirring, beat through Rhoda's veins. For +one unspeakable moment there swept through her spirit a vision of +strength, of beauty, of gladness, too wild and sweet for words. Then +came the old sense of race distaste and she looked steadily into the +young man's face. +</P> + +<P> +"I cannot marry you, Kut-le," she said. +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le said nothing more. He stood staring at the far desert, his fine +face somber and with a look of determination in the contracted eyes and +firm-set lips that made Rhoda shiver, even while her heart throbbed +with pity. Tall, slender, inscrutable, as alien to her understanding +as the call of the desert wind or the moon-drenched desert haze, she +turned away and left him standing there alone. +</P> + +<P> +She made her slow way to the ranch-house. Kut-le did not follow. +Rhoda went to bed at once. Yet she could not sleep, for through the +silence Kut-le's deep voice beat on her ears. +</P> + +<P> +"I love you passionately! I love you tenderly! I am an Indian, but +first of all I am a man!" +</P> + +<P> +The next day and for the three or four days following, Kut-le was +missing. The Newmans were worried. The ditch needed its engineer and +never before had Kut-le been known to neglect his work. Once a year he +went on a long hunt with chosen friends of his tribe, but never until +his work was finished. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda confided in no one regarding her last interview with the Indian. +She missed Kut-le, but DeWitt was frankly relieved. For the first time +since Porter's warning he relaxed his vigilance. On the fifth evening +after Kut-le's disappearance, Jack and DeWitt rode over to a +neighboring ranch. Katherine was lazy with a headache. So Rhoda took +her evening stroll alone. For once, she left the orchard and wandered +out into the open desert, moved by an uncanny desire to let the full +horror of the desert mystery sweep over her. +</P> + +<P> +How long she sat on a rock, gazing into infinity, she did not know. It +seemed to her that her whole shivering, protesting body was being +absorbed into the strange radiance of the afterglow. At last she rose. +As she did so, a tall figure loomed silently before her. Rhoda was too +startled to scream. The figure was that of an Indian, naked save for +high moccasins and a magnificently decorated loin-cloth. The man +looked down at her with the smile of good fellowship that she knew so +well. It was Kut-le, standing like a young bronze god against the +faint pink of the afterglow. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello!" he said nonchalantly. "I've been watching for you." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you want!" gasped Rhoda. "What do you mean by coming before +me in—in—" +</P> + +<P> +"You mean when I'm dressed as a chief on the warpath? Well, you said +you'd be keen about me this way; so here I am. I tried all the white +methods I knew to win you and failed. Now the only thing left is the +Indian method." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda moved uneasily. +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le went on: +</P> + +<P> +"As a white man I can no longer pester you. As an Indian I can steal +you and marry you." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda struggled to make him and his words seem real to her. +</P> + +<P> +"You aren't going to be so absurd as to try to steal me, I hope!" she +tried to laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"That's just what I'm going to do!" answered Kut-le. "If I steal as a +white would steal, I would be caught at once. If I use Apache methods, +no white on earth can catch me." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda gasped as the Indian's evident sincerity sank in on her. +</P> + +<P> +"But," she pleaded, fighting for time, "you can't want to marry me by +force! Don't you know that I shall grow to loathe you?" +</P> + +<P> +"No! No!" answered the Indian earnestly. "Not after I've shown you +life as I have seen it." +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense!" cried Rhoda. "Don't you realize that the whole county will +be after you by morning?" +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le laughed, deliberately walked up to the girl and lifted her in +his arms as he had on the morning of their meeting. Rhoda gave one +scream and struggled frantically. He slid a hand over her lips and +tightened his hold. For a moment Rhoda lay motionless in abject fear, +then, with a muffled cry of utter helplessness, a cry that would have +driven a white man mad with pity, she slipped into unconsciousness. +Kut-le walked on for a short distance to a horse. He put Rhoda in the +saddle and fastened her there with a blanket. He slipped off the +twisted bandana that bound his short black hair, fillet wise, and tied +it carefully over Rhoda's mouth. Then with one hand steadying the +quiet shoulders, he started the horse on through the dusk. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE INDIAN WAY +</H3> + + +<P> +It was some time before the call of a coyote close beside her +penetrated Rhoda's senses. At its third or fourth repetition, she +sighed and opened her eyes. Night had come, the luminous lavender +night of the desert. Her first discovery was that she was seated on a +horse, held firmly by a strong arm across her shoulders. Next she +found that her uneasy breathing was due to the cloth tied round her +mouth. With this came realization of her predicament and she tossed +her arms in a wild attempt to free herself. +</P> + +<P> +The arm about her tightened, the horse stopped, and the voice went on +repeating the coyote call, clearly, mournfully. Rhoda ceased her +struggling for a moment and looked at the face so close to her own. In +the starlight only the eyes and the dim outline of the features were +visible, and the eyes were as dark and menacing to her as the desert +night that shut her in. +</P> + +<P> +Mad with fear, Rhoda strained at the rigid arm. Kut-le dropped the +reins and held her struggling hands, ceased his calling and waited. +Off to the left came an answering call and Kut-le started the pony +rapidly toward the sound. In a few moments Rhoda saw a pair of +horsemen. Utterly exhausted, she sat in terror awaiting her fate. +Kut-le gave a low-voiced order. One of the riders immediately rode +forward, leading another horse. Kut-le slipped another blanket from +this and finished binding Rhoda to her saddle so securely that she +scarcely could move a finger. Then he mounted his horse, and he and +one of the Indians started off, leading Rhoda's horse between them and +leaving the third Indian standing silently behind them. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda was astride of the pony, half sitting, half lying along his neck. +The Indians put the horses to a trot and immediately the discomfort of +her position was made agony by the rough motion. But the pain cleared +her mind. +</P> + +<P> +Her first thought was that she never would recover from the disgrace of +this episode. Following this thought came fury at the man who was so +outraging her. It only he would free her hands for a moment she would +choke him! Her anger would give her strength for that! Then she +fought against her fastenings. They held her all but motionless and +the sense of her helplessness brought back the fear panic. Utterly +helpless, she thought! Flying through darkness to an end worse than +death! In the power of a naked savage! Her fear almost robbed her of +her reason. +</P> + +<P> +After what seemed to her endless hours, the horses were stopped +suddenly. She felt her fastenings removed. Then Kut-le lifted her to +the ground where she tumbled, helpless, at his feet. He stooped and +took the gag from her mouth. Immediately with what fragment of +strength remained to her, she screamed again and again. The two +Indians stood stolidly watching her for a time, then Kut-le knelt in +the sand beside her huddled form and laid his hand on her arm. +</P> + +<P> +"There, Rhoda," he said, "no one can hear you. You will only make +yourself sick." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda struck his hand feebly. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't touch me!" she cried hoarsely. "Don't touch me, you beast! I +loathe you! I am afraid of you! Don't you dare to touch me!" +</P> + +<P> +At this Kut-le imprisoned both her cold hands in one of his warm palms +and held them despite her struggles, while with the other hand he +smoothed her tumbled hair from her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Poor frightened little girl," he said, in his rich voice. "I wish I +might have done otherwise. But there was no other way. I don't know +that I believe much in your God but I guess you do. So I tell you, +Rhoda, that by your faith in Him, you are absolutely safe in my hands!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda caught her breath in a childlike sob while she sstill struggled +to recover her hands. +</P> + +<P> +"I loathe you!" she panted. "I loathe you! I loathe you!" +</P> + +<P> +But Kut-le would not free the cold little hands. +</P> + +<P> +"But do you fear me, too? Answer me! Do you fear me?" +</P> + +<P> +The moon had risen and Rhoda looked into the face that bent above hers. +This was a naked savage with hawk-like face. Yet the eyes were the +ones that she had come to know so well, half tragic, somber, but clear +and, toward her, tender, very, very tender. With a shuddering sigh, +Rhoda looked away. But against her own volition she found herself +saying: +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not afraid now! But I loathe you, you Apache Indian!" +</P> + +<P> +Something very like a smile touched the grim mouth of the Apache. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't hate you, you Caucasian!" he answered quietly. +</P> + +<P> +He chafed the cold hands for a moment, in silence. Then he lifted her +to her saddle. But Rhoda was beyond struggle, beyond even clinging to +the saddle. Kut-le caught her as she reeled. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't tie me!" she panted. "Don't tie me! I won't fight! I won't +even scream, if you won't tie me!" +</P> + +<P> +"But you can't sit your saddle alone," replied Kut-le. "I'll have to +tie you." +</P> + +<P> +Once more he lifted her to the horse. Once more with the help of his +silent companion he fastened her with blankets. Once more the journey +was begun. For a little while, distraught and uncertain what course to +pursue, Rhoda endured the misery of position and motion in silence. +Then the pain was too much and she cried out in protest. Kut-le +brought the horses to a walk. +</P> + +<P> +"You certainly have about as much spunk as a chicken with the pip!" he +said contemptuously. "I should think your loathing would brace you up +a little!" +</P> + +<P> +Stung by the insult to a sudden access of strength, as the Indian had +intended her to be, Rhoda answered, "You beast!" but as the horses +swung into the trot she made no protest for a long hour. Then once +more her strength failed her and she fell to crying with deep-drawn +sobs that shook her entire body. After a few moments of this, Kut-le +drew close to her. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't!" he said huskily. "Don't!" And again he laid his hand on her +shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda shuddered but could not cease her sobs. Kut-le seemed to +hesitate for a few moments. Then he reached over, undid Rhoda's +fastenings and lifted her limp body to the saddle before him, holding +her against his broad chest as if he were coddling a child. Then he +started the horses on. Too exhausted to struggle, Rhoda lay sobbing +while the young Indian sat with his tragic eyes fastened steadily on +the mysterious distances of the trail. Finally Rhoda sank into a +stupor and, seeing this, Kut-le doubled the speed of the horses. +</P> + +<P> +It was daylight when Rhoda opened her eyes. For a time she lay at ease +listening to the trill of birds and the trickle of water. Then, with a +start, she raised her head. She was lying on a heap of blankets on a +stone ledge. Above her was the boundless sapphire of the sky. Close +beside her a little spring bubbled from the blank wall of the mountain. +Rhoda lay in helpless silence, looking about her, while the appalling +nature of her predicament sank into her consciousness. +</P> + +<P> +Against the wall squatted two Indian women. They were dressed in rough +short skirts, tight-fitting calico waists and high leather moccasins. +Their black hair was parted in the middle and hung free. Their swarthy +features were well cut but both of the women were dirty and ill kept. +The younger, heavier squaw had a kindly face, with good eyes, but her +hair was matted with clay and her fingers showed traces of recent +tortilla making. The older woman was lean and wiry, with a strange +gleam of maliciousness and ferocity in her eyes. Her forehead was +elaborately tattooed with symbols and her toothless old jaws were +covered with blue tribal lines. +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le and his friend of the night lounged on a heap of rock at the +edge of the ledge. The strange Indian was well past middle age, tall +and dignified. He was darker than Kut-le. His face was thin and +aquiline. His long hair hung in elf locks over his shoulders. His +toilet was elaborate compared with that of Kut-le, for he wore a pair +of overalls and a dilapidated flannel shirt, unbelted and fluttering +its ends in the morning breeze. As if conscious of her gaze, Kut-le +turned and looked at Rhoda. His magnificent height and proportions +dwarfed the tall Indian beside him. +</P> + +<P> +"Good-morning, Rhoda!" he said gravely. +</P> + +<P> +The girl looked at the beautiful naked body and reddened. +</P> + +<P> +"You beast!" she said clearly. +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le looked at her with slightly contracted eyes. Then he spoke to +the fat squaw. She rose hastily and lifted a pot from the little fire +beside the spring. She dipped a steaming cup of broth from this and +brought it to Rhoda's side. The girl struck it away. Kut-le walked +slowly over, picked up the empty cup at which the squaw stood staring +stupidly and filled it once more at the kettle. Then he held it out to +Rhoda. His nearness roused the girl to frenzy. With difficulty she +brought her stiffened body to a sitting position. Her beautiful gray +eyes were black with her sense of outrage. +</P> + +<P> +"Take it away, beast!" she panted. +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le held her gaze. +</P> + +<P> +"Drink it, Rhoda!" he said quietly. +</P> + +<P> +The girl returned his look for a moment then, hating herself for her +weakness, she took the cup and drained it. Kut-le tossed the cup to +the squaw, pushed Rhoda back to her blankets and covered her very +gently. Then he went back to his boulder. The girl lay staring up at +the sky. Utterly merciless it gleamed above her. But before she could +more than groan she was asleep. +</P> + +<P> +She slept as she had not slept for months. The slanting rays of the +westering sun wakened her. She sat up stiffly. The squaws were +unpacking a burlap bag. They were greasy and dirty but they were women +and their nearness gave Rhoda a vague sense of protection. They in +turn gazed at the tangled glory of her hair, at the hopeless beauty of +her eyes, at the pathos of the drooping mouth, with unfeigned curiosity. +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le still was watching the desert. The madness of the night before +had lifted a little, leaving Rhoda with some of her old poise. After +several attempts she rose and made her staggering way to Kut-le's side. +</P> + +<P> +"Kut-le," she said, "perhaps you will tell me what you mean by this +outrage?" +</P> + +<P> +The young Indian, turned to her. White and exhausted, heavy hair in +confusion, Rhoda still was lovely. +</P> + +<P> +"You seem to have more interest in life," he said, "than you have had +since I have known you. I thought the experiment would have that +effect!" +</P> + +<P> +"You brute!" cried Rhoda. "Can't you see how silly you are? You will +be caught and lynched before the day is passed." +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"Pshaw! Three Apaches can outwit a hundred white men on the trail!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda caught her breath. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Kut-le, how could you do this thing! How could you! I am +disgraced forever! Let me go, Kut-le! Let me go! I'll not even ask +you for a horse. Just let me go by myself!" +</P> + +<P> +"You are better off with me. You will acknowledge that, yourself, +before I am through with you." +</P> + +<P> +"Better off!" Rhoda's appalled eyes cut the Indian deeper than words. +"Better off! Why, Kut-le, I am a dying woman! You will just have to +leave me dead beside the trail somewhere. Look at me! Look at my +hands! See how emaciated I am! See how I tremble! I am a sick wreck, +Kut-le. You cannot want me! Let me go! Try, try to remember all that +you learned of pity from the whites! O Kut-le, let me go!" +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't forgotten what I learned from the whites," replied the young +man. He looked off at the desert with a quiet smile. "Now I want the +whites to learn from me. +</P> + +<P> +"But can't you see what a futile game you are playing? John DeWitt and +Jack must be on your trail now!" +</P> + +<P> +There was a cruel gleam in the Apache's eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't be too sure! They are going to spend a few days looking for the +foolish Eastern girl who took a stroll and lost her way in the desert. +How can they dream that you are stolen?" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda wrung her hands. +</P> + +<P> +"What shall I do! What shall I do! What an awful, awful thing to come +to me! As if life had not been hard enough! This catastrophe! This +disgrace!" +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le eyed her speculatively. +</P> + +<P> +"It's all race prejudice, you know. I have the education of the white +with the intelligence and physical perfection of the Indian; DeWitt is +nowhere near my equal." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda's eyes blazed. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't speak of DeWitt! You're not fit to!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yet," very quietly, "you said the other night that I had as good a +brain and was as attractive as any man of your acquaintance!" +</P> + +<P> +"I was a fool!" exclaimed Rhoda. +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le rose and took a stride or two up and down the ledge. Then he +folded his arms across his chest and stopped before Rhoda, who leaned +weakly against the boulder. +</P> + +<P> +"I am going to tell you what my ideas are," he said. "You are +intelligent and will understand me no matter how bitter my words may +make you at first. Now look here. Lots of white men are in love with +you. Even Billy Porter went off his head. But I guess DeWitt is a +pretty fair sample of the type of men you drew, well educated, strong, +well-bred and Eastern to the backbone. And they love you as you are, +delicate, helpless, appealing, thoroughbred, but utterly useless! +</P> + +<P> +"Except that they hate to see you suffer, they wouldn't want you to +change. Now I love you for the possibilities that I see in you. I +wouldn't think of marrying you as you are. It would be an insult to my +good blood. Your beauty is marred by your illness. You have +absolutely no sense of responsibility toward life. You think that life +owes everything to you, that you pay your way with your beauty. If you +didn't die, but married DeWitt, you would go on through life petted and +babied, bridge-playing and going out to lectures, childless, +incompetent, self-satisfied—and an utter failure! +</P> + +<P> +"Now I think that humans owe everything to life and that women owe the +most of all because they make the race. The more nature has done for +them, the more they owe. I believe that you are a thousand times worth +saving. I am going to keep you out here in the desert until you wake +to your responsibility to yourself and to life. I am going to strip +your veneering of culture from you and make you see yourself as you are +and life as it is—life, big and clean and glorious, with its one big +tenet: keep body and soul right and reproduce your kind. I am going to +make you see bigger things in this big country than you ever dreamed +of." +</P> + +<P> +He stopped and Rhoda sat appalled, the Indian watching her. To relieve +herself from his eyes Rhoda turned toward the desert. The sun had all +but touched the far horizon. Crimson and gold, purple and black, +desert and sky merged in one unspeakable glory. But Rhoda saw only +emptiness, only life's cruelty and futility and loneliness. And once +more she wrung her feeble hands. +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le spoke to Molly, the fat squaw. She again brought Rhoda a cup of +broth. This time Rhoda drank it mechanically, then sat in abject +wretchedness awaiting the next move of her tormentor. She had not long +to wait. Kut-le took a bundle from his saddle and began to unfasten it +before Rhoda. +</P> + +<P> +"You must get into some suitable clothes," he said. "Put these on." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda stared at the clothing Kut-le was shaking out. Then she gave him +a look of disgust. There was a pair of little buckskin breeches, +exquisitely tanned, a little blue flannel shirt, a pair of high-laced +hunting boots and a sombrero. She made no motion toward taking the +clothes. +</P> + +<P> +"Can't you see," Kut-le went on, "that, at the least, you will be in my +power for a day or two, that you must ride and that the clothes you +have on are simply silly? Why not be as comfortable as possible, under +the circumstances?" +</P> + +<P> +The girl, with the conventions of ages speaking in her disgusted face, +the savage with his perfect physique bespeaking ages of undistorted +nature, eyed each other narrowly. +</P> + +<P> +"I shall keep on my own clothes," said Rhoda distinctly. "Believe me, +you alone give the party the primitive air you admire!" +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le's jaw hardened. +</P> + +<P> +"Rhoda Tuttle, unless you put these clothes on at once I shall call the +squaws and have them put on you by force." +</P> + +<P> +Into Rhoda's face came a look of despair. Slowly she put out a shaking +hand and took the clothes. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't argue against a brute," she said. "The men I have known have +been gentlemen. Tell one of your filthy squaws to come and help me." +</P> + +<P> +"Molly! <I>Pronto</I>!" Like a brown lizard the fat squaw scuttled to +Rhoda's side. +</P> + +<P> +In a little dressing-room formed by fallen rock, Rhoda put on the boy's +clothing. Molly helped the girl very gently. When she was done she +smoothed the blue-shirted shoulder complacently. +</P> + +<P> +"Heap nice!" she said. "Make 'em sick squaw heap warm. You no 'fraid! +Kut-le say cut off nose, kill 'em with cactus torture, if Injuns not +good to white squaw." +</P> + +<P> +The touch was the touch of a woman and Molly, though a squaw, had a +woman's understanding. Rhoda gave a little sob. +</P> + +<P> +"Kut-le, he good!" Molly went on. "He a big chief's son. He strong, +rich. You no be afraid. You look heap pretty." +</P> + +<P> +Involuntarily Rhoda glanced at herself. The new clothes were very +comfortable. With the loveliness and breeding that neither clothing +nor circumstance could mar, Rhoda was a fascinating figure. She was +tall for a woman, but now she looked a mere lad. The buckskin clung +like velvet. The high-laced boots came to her knees. The sombrero +concealed all of the golden hair save for short curling locks in front. +She would have charmed a painter, Kut-le thought, as she stepped from +her dressing-room; but he kept his voice coolly impersonal. +</P> + +<P> +"All right, you're in shape to travel, now. Where are your other +clothes? Molly, bring them all here!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda, followed the squaw and together they folded the cast-off +clothing. Rhoda saw that her scarf had blown near the cañon edge. A +quick thought came to her. Molly was fully occupied with muttering +adoration of the dainty underwear. Rhoda tied a pebble into the scarf +and dropped it far out into the depths below. Then she returned to +Molly. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER V +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE PURSUIT +</H3> + + +<P> +As twilight deepened, Katherine lay in the hammock thankful for the +soothing effect of the darkness on her aching eyes. She felt a little +troubled about Kut-le. She was very fond of the young Indian. She +understood him as did no one else, perhaps, and had the utmost faith in +his honor and loyalty. She suspected that Rhoda had had much to do +with the young Indian's sudden departure and she felt irritated with +the girl, though at the same time she acknowledged that Rhoda had done +only what she, Katherine, had advised—had treated Kut-le as if he had +been a white man! +</P> + +<P> +She watched the trail for Rhoda's return but darkness came and there +was no sign of the frail figure. A little disturbed, she walked to the +corral bars and looked down to the lights of the cowboys' quarters. If +only John DeWitt and Jack would return! But she did not expect them +before midnight. She returned to the house and telephoned to the ranch +foreman. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you worry, ma'am," he answered cheerily. "No harm could come to +her! She just walked till it got dark and is just starting for home +now, I bet! She can't have got out of sight of the ranch lights." +</P> + +<P> +"But she may have! You can't tell what she's done, she's such a +tenderfoot," insisted Katherine nervously. "She may have been hurt!" +</P> + +<P> +It was well that Katherine could not see the foreman's face during the +conversation. It had a decided scowl of apprehension, but he managed a +cheerful laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you <I>have</I> got nervous, Mrs. Newman! I'll just send three or +four of the boys out to meet her. Eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes, do!" cried Katherine. "I shall feel easier. Good-by!" +</P> + +<P> +Dick Freeman dropped the receiver and hurried into the neighboring +bunk-house. +</P> + +<P> +"Boys," he said quietly, "Mrs. Newman just 'phoned me that Miss Tuttle +went to walk at sunset, to be gone half an hour. She ain't got back +yet. She is alone. Will some of you come with me?" +</P> + +<P> +Every hand of cards was dropped before Dick was half through his +statement. In less than twenty minutes twenty cowboys were circling +slowly out into the desert. For two hours Katherine paced from the +living-room to the veranda, from the veranda to the corral. She +changed her light evening gown to her khaki riding habit. Her +nervousness grew to panic. She sent Li Chung to bed, then she paced +the lawn, listening, listening. +</P> + +<P> +At last she heard the thud of hoofs and Dick Freeman dismounted in the +light that streamed from the open door. +</P> + +<P> +"We haven't found her, Mrs. Newman. Has Mr. Newman got back? I think +we must get up an organized search." +</P> + +<P> +Katherine could feel her heart thump heavily. +</P> + +<P> +"No, he hasn't. Have you found her trail?" +</P> + +<P> +"No; it's awful hard to trail in the dark, and the desert for miles +around the ranch is all cut up with footprints and hoof-marks, you +know." +</P> + +<P> +Katherine wrung her hands. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, poor little Rhoda!" she cried. "What shall we do!" +</P> + +<P> +"No harm can come to her," insisted Dick. "She will know enough to sit +tight till daylight, then we will have her before the heat gets up." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, if she only will!" moaned Katherine. "Do whatever you think best, +Dick, and I'll send Jack and John DeWitt to you as soon as they return." +</P> + +<P> +Dick swung himself to the saddle again. +</P> + +<P> +"Better go in and read something, Mrs. Newman. You mustn't worry +yourself sick until you are sure you have something to worry about." +</P> + +<P> +How she passed the rest of the night, Katherine never knew. A little +after midnight, Jack came in, his face tense and anxious. Katherine +paled as she saw his expression. She knew he had met some of the +searchers. When Jack saw the color leave his wife's pretty cheeks, he +kissed her very tenderly and for a moment they clung to each other +silently, thinking of the delicate girl adrift on the desert. +</P> + +<P> +"Where is John DeWitt?" asked Katherine after a moment. +</P> + +<P> +"He's almost crazy. He's with Dick Freeman. Only stopped for a fresh +horse." +</P> + +<P> +"They have no trace?" questioned Katherine. +</P> + +<P> +Jack shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"You know what a proposition it is to hunt for as small an object as a +human, in the desert. Give me your smelling salts and the little +Navajo blanket. One—one can't tell whether she's hurt or not." +</P> + +<P> +Katherine began to sob as she obeyed. +</P> + +<P> +"You are all angel good not to blame me, but I know it's my fault. I +shouldn't have let her go. But she is so sensible, usually." +</P> + +<P> +"Dear heart!" said Jack, rolling up the Navajo. "Any one that knows +dear old Rhoda knows that what she will, she will, and you are not to +blame. Go to bed and sleep if you can." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Jack, I can't! Let me go with you, do!" +</P> + +<P> +But Jack shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"You aren't strong enough to do any good and some one must stay here to +run things." +</P> + +<P> +So again Katherine was left to pace the veranda. All night the search +went on. Jack sent messages to the neighboring ranches and the +following morning fifty men were in the saddle seeking Rhoda's trail. +Jack also sent into the Pueblo country for Kut-le, feeling that his aid +would be invaluable. It would take some time to get a reply from the +Indians and in the meantime the search went on rigorously, with no +trace of the trail to be found. +</P> + +<P> +John DeWitt did not return to the ranch until the afternoon after +Rhoda's disappearance. Then, disheveled, with bloodshot eyes, cracked +lips and blistered face, he dropped exhausted on the veranda steps. +Katherine and Jack greeted him with quiet sympathy. +</P> + +<P> +"I came in to get fixed up for a long cruise," said John. "My pony +went lame, and I want a flannel shirt instead of this silk thing I had +on last night. I wish to God Kut-le would come! I suppose he could +read what we are blind to." +</P> + +<P> +"You bet!" cried Jack. "I expect an answer from his friends this +afternoon. I just had a telegram from Porter, in answer to one I sent +him this morning. I caught him at Brown's and he will be here this +afternoon. He knows almost as much as an Indian about following a +trail." +</P> + +<P> +They all spoke in the hushed tones one employs in the sick-room. Jack +tried to persuade DeWitt to eat and sleep but he refused, his forced +calm giving way to a hoarse, "For heaven's sake, can I rest when she is +dying out there!" +</P> + +<P> +John had not finished his feverish preparations when Billy Porter +stalked into the living-room. As he entered, the telephone rang and +Jack answered it. Then he returned to the eager group. +</P> + +<P> +"Kut-le has gone on a long hunt with some of his people. They don't +know where he went and refuse to look for him." +</P> + +<P> +Billy Porter gave a hard, mirthless laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"Why certainly! Jack, you ought to have a hole bored into your head to +let in a little light. Kut-le gone. Can't find Rhoda's trail. Kut-le +in love with Rhoda. Kut-le an Indian. Rhoda refuses him—he goes +off—gets some of his chums and when he catches Rhoda alone he steals +her. He will keep a man behind, covering his trail. Oh, you easy +Easterners make me sick!" +</P> + +<P> +The Newmans and DeWitt stood staring at Porter with horror in their +eyes. The clock ticked for an instant then DeWitt gave a groan and +bowed his head against the mantelpiece. Katherine ran to him and tried +to pull his head to her little shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"O John, don't! Don't! Maybe Billy is right. I'm afraid he is! But +one thing I do know. Rhoda is as safe in Kut-le's hands as she would +be in Jack's. I know it, John!" +</P> + +<P> +John did not move, but at Katherine's words the color came back into +Jack Newman's face. +</P> + +<P> +"That's right!" he said stoutly. "It's a devilish thing for Kut-le to +do. But she's safe, John, old boy, I'm sure she is." +</P> + +<P> +Billy Porter, conscience-stricken at the effect of his words, clapped +John on the shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"Aw shucks! I let my Injun hate get the best of my tongue. Of course +she's safe enough; only the darn devil's got to be caught before he +gets to Mexico and makes some padre marry 'em. So it's us to the +saddle a whole heap." +</P> + +<P> +"We'd better get an Indian to help trail," said Jack. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll have a sweet time getting an Injun to trail Kut-le!" said +Porter. "The Injuns half worship him. They think he's got some kind +of strong medicine; you know that. You get one and he'll keep you off +the trail instead of on. I can follow the trail as soon as he quits +covering it. Get the canteens and come on. We don't need a million +cowboys running round promiscuous over the sand. Numbers don't help in +trailing an Injun. It's experience and patience. It may take us two +weeks and we'll outfit for that. But we'll get him in the end. Crook +always did." +</P> + +<P> +There was that in Billy Porter's voice which put heart into his +listeners. John DeWitt lifted his head, and while his blue eyes +returned the gaze of the others miserably, he squared his shoulders +doggedly. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm ready," he said briefly. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, let me come!" cried Katherine. "I can't bear this waiting!" +</P> + +<P> +Billy smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Mrs. Jack, you'd be dried up and blowed away before the first day +was over." +</P> + +<P> +"But Rhoda is enduring it!" protested Katherine, with quivering lips. +</P> + +<P> +"God!" John DeWitt muttered and flung himself from the house to the +corral. The other two followed him at once. +</P> + +<P> +It was mid-afternoon when the three rode into the quivering yellow haze +of the desert followed by a little string of pack horses. It was now +nearing twenty-four hours since Rhoda had disappeared and in that time +there had been little sand blowing. This meant that the trail could be +easily followed were it found. The men rode single file, Billy Porter +leading. All wore blue flannel shirts and khaki trousers. John DeWitt +rode Eastern park fashion, with short stirrup, rising from the saddle +with the trot. Jack and Billy rode Western fashion, long stirrup, an +inseparable part of their horses, a fashion that John DeWitt was to be +forced to learn in the fearful days to come. +</P> + +<P> +Billy Porter declaimed in a loud voice from the head of the procession. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course, Kut-le has taken to the mountains. He'll steer clear of +ranches and cowboys for a while. Our chance lies in his giving up +covering his trail after he gets well into the ranges. We will get his +trail and hang on till we can outwit him. If he was alone, we'd never +get him, barring accident. But he will be a lot hampered by Miss Rhoda +and I trust to her to hamper him a whole lot after she gets her hand +in." +</P> + +<P> +All the rest of the burning afternoon they moved toward the mountains. +It was quite dusk when they entered the foothills. The way, not good +at best, grew difficult and dangerous to follow. Billy led on, +however, until darkness closed down on them in a little cactus-grown +cañon. Here he halted and ordered camp for a few hours. +</P> + +<P> +"Lord!" exclaimed DeWitt. "You're not going to camp! I thought you +were really going to do something!" +</P> + +<P> +Billy finished lighting the fire and by its light he gave an impatient +glance at the tenderfoot. But the look of the burned, sand-grimed +face, the bloodshot eyes, blazing with anxiety, caused him to speak +patiently. +</P> + +<P> +"Can't kill the horses, DeWitt. You must make up your mind that this +is going to be a hard hunt. You got to call out all the strength +you've been storing up all your life, and then some. We've got to use +common sense. Lord, I want to get ahead, don't I! I seen Miss Rhoda. +I know what she's like. This ain't any joy ride for me, either. I got +a lot of feeling in it." +</P> + +<P> +John DeWitt extended his sun-blistered right hand and Billy Porter +clasped it with his brown paw. +</P> + +<P> +Jack Newman cleared his throat. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you give your horse enough rope, John? There is a good lot of +grass close to the cañon wall. Quick as you finish your coffee, old +man, roll in your blanket. We will rest till midnight when the moon +comes up, eh, Billy?" +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt, finally convinced of the good sense and earnestness of his +friends, obeyed. The cañon was still in darkness when Jack shook him +into wakefulness but the mountain peak above was a glorious silver. +Camp was broken quickly and in a short time Billy was leading the way +up the wretched trail. DeWitt's four hours of sleep had helped him. +He could, to some degree, control the feverish anxiety that was +consuming him and he tried to turn his mind from picturing Rhoda's +agonies to castigating himself for leaving her unguarded even though +Kut-le had left the ranch. Before leaving the ranch that afternoon he +had telegraphed and written Rhoda's only living relative, her Aunt +Mary. He had been thankful as he wrote that Rhoda had no mother. He +had so liked the young Indian; there had been such good feeling between +them that he could not yet believe that Porter's surmise was wholly +correct. +</P> + +<P> +"Supposing," he said aloud, "that you are wrong, Porter? Supposing +that she's—she's dying of thirst down there in the desert? You have +no proof of Kut-le's doing it. It's only founded on your Indian hate, +you say yourself." +</P> + +<P> +"That's right," said Newman. "Are you sure we aren't wasting time, +Billy?" +</P> + +<P> +Billy turned in the saddle to face them. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, boys," he said, "you've got half the county scratching the +desert with a fine-tooth comb. I don't see how we three can help very +much there. On the other hand we might do some good up here. Now I'll +make a bargain with you. If by midnight tonight we ain't struck any +trace of her, you folks can quit." +</P> + +<P> +"And what will you do?" asked Jack. +</P> + +<P> +"Me?" Billy shrugged his shoulders. "Why, I'll keep on this trail +till my legs is wore off above my boots!" and he turned to guide his +pony up a little branch trail at the top of which stood a tent with the +telltale windlass and forge close by. +</P> + +<P> +Before the tent they drew rein. In response to Billy's call a +rough-bearded fellow lifted the tent flap and stood suppressing a yawn, +as if visitors to his lonely claim were of daily occurrence. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, friend," said Billy, "do you know Newman's ranch?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure," returned the prospector. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, this is Mr. Newman. A young lady has been visiting him and his +wife. She disappeared night before last. We suspicion that Cartwell, +that educated Injun, has stole her. We're trying to find his trail. +Can you give us a hunch?" +</P> + +<P> +The sleepy look left the prospector's eyes. He crossed the rocks to +put a hand on Billy's pommel. +</P> + +<P> +"Gee! Ain't that ungodly!" he exclaimed. "I ain't seen a soul. But +night before last I heard a screaming in my sleep. It woke me up but +when I got out here I couldn't hear a thing. It was faint and far away +and I decided it was a wildcat. Do you suppose it was her?" +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt ground his teeth together and his hands shook but he made no +sound. Jack breathed heavily. +</P> + +<P> +"You think it was a woman?" asked Billy hoarsely. +</P> + +<P> +The prospector spoke hesitatingly. +</P> + +<P> +"If I'd been shore, I'd a gone on a hunt. But it was all kind of in my +sleep. It was from way back in the mountain there." +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks," said Billy, "we'll be on our way." +</P> + +<P> +"It's four o'clock. Better stop and have some grub with me, then I'll +join in and help you." +</P> + +<P> +"No!" cried DeWitt, breaking his silence. "No!" +</P> + +<P> +"That's the young lady's financier," said Billy, nodding toward John. +</P> + +<P> +"Sho!" said the prospector sympathetically. +</P> + +<P> +Billy lifted his reins. +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks, we'll be getting along, I guess. Just as much obliged to you. +We'll water here in your spring." +</P> + +<P> +They moved on in the direction whither the prospector had pointed. +They rode in silence. Dawn came slowly, clearly. The peaks lifted +magnificently, range after range against the rosy sky. There was no +trail. They followed the possible way. The patient little cow ponies +clambered over rocks and slid down inclines of a frightful angle as +cleverly as mountain goats. At ten o'clock, they stopped for breakfast +and a three hours' sleep. It was some time before DeWitt could be +persuaded to lie down but at last, perceiving that he was keeping the +others from their rest, he took his blanket to the edge of the ledge +and lay down. +</P> + +<P> +His sleepless eyes roved up and down the adjoining cañon. Far to the +south, near the desert floor, he saw a fluttering bit of white. Now a +fluttering bit of white, far from human byways, means something! +Tenderfoot though he was, DeWitt realized this and sleep left his eyes. +He sat erect. For a moment he was tempted to call the others but he +restrained himself. He would let them rest while he kept watch over +the little white beacon, for so, unaccountably, it seemed to him. He +eyed it hungrily, and then a vague comfort and hopefulness came to him +and he fell asleep. +</P> + +<P> +Jack's lusty call to coffee woke him. DeWitt jumped to his feet and +with a new light in his eyes he pointed out his discovery. The meal +was disposed of very hurriedly and, leaving Jack to watch the camp, +John and Billy crossed the cañon southward. After heavy scrambling +they reached the foot of the cañon wall. Twenty feet above them +dangled a white cloth. Catching any sort of hand and foot hold, John +clambered upward. Then he gave a great shout of joy. Rhoda's neck +scarf with the pebble pinned in one end was in his hands! DeWitt slid +to the ground and he and Billy examined the scarf tenderly, eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +"I told you! I told you!" exulted Billy hoarsely. "See that weight +fastened to it? Wasn't that smart of her? Bless her heart! Now we +got to get above, somehow, and find where she dropped it from!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ENTERING THE DESERT KINDERGARTEN +</H3> + + +<P> +"We'll start now," said Kut-le. +</P> + +<P> +Alchise led out the horses. The squaws each threw an emancipated, +sinewy leg across a pony's back and followed Alchise's fluttering shirt +up the mountain. Kut-le stood holding the bridle of a sedate little +horse on which he had fastened a comfortable high-backed saddle. +</P> + +<P> +"Come, Rhoda," he said. "I'll shorten the stirrups after you are +mounted." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda stood with her back to the wall, her blue-veined hands clutching +the rough out-croppings on either side, horror and fear in her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't ride cross-saddle!" she exclaimed. "I used to be a good +horsewoman in the side-saddle. But I'm so weak that even keeping in +the side-saddle is out of the question." +</P> + +<P> +"Anything except cross-saddle is utterly out of the question," replied +the Indian, "on the sort of trails we have to take. You might as well +begin to control your nerves now as later. I'm going to have an expert +rider in you by the time you have regained your strength. Come, Rhoda." +</P> + +<P> +The girl turned her face to the afterglow. Remote and pitiless lay the +distant crimson ranges. She shuddered and turned back to the young +Indian who stood watching her. For the moment all the agony of her +situation was concentrated in horror of another night in the saddle. +</P> + +<P> +"Kut-le, I <I>can't</I>!" +</P> + +<P> +"Shall I pick you up and carry you over here?" asked Kut-le patiently. +</P> + +<P> +In her weakness and misery, Rhoda's cleft chin quivered. There was +only merciless determination in the Indian's face. Slowly the girl +walked to his side. He swung her to the saddle, adjusted the stirrups +carefully, then fastened her securely to the saddle with a strap about +her waist. Rhoda watched him in the silence of utter fear. Having +settled the girl to his satisfaction, he mounted his own horse, and +Rhoda's pony followed him tractably up the trail. +</P> + +<P> +The trail rose steeply. After the first few dizzy moments, Rhoda, +clinging to the saddle with hands and knees, was thankful for the +security of her new seat. The scenery was uncanny to her terrorized +eyes. To the left were great overhanging walls with cactus growing +from every crevice; to the right, depth of cañon toward which she dared +not look but only trusted herself prayerfully to her steady little +horse. +</P> + +<P> +As the trail led higher and darkness settled, the cold grew intense and +Rhoda cowered and shivered. Yet through her fear and discomfort was +creeping surprise that her strength had endured even this long. In a +spot where the trail widened Kut-le dropped back beside her and she +felt the warm folds of a Navajo blanket about her shoulders. Neither +she nor the Indian spoke. The madness of the night before, the fear +and disgust of the afternoon gave way, slowly, to a lethargy of +exhaustion. All thought of her frightful predicament, of her friends' +anxiety, of Kut-le's treachery, was dulled by a weariness so great that +she could only cling to the saddle and pray for the trail to end. +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le, riding just ahead, glanced back constantly at the girl's dim +figure. But Rhoda was beyond pleading or protesting. The trail +twisted and undulated on and on. Each moment Rhoda felt less certain +of her seat. Each moment the motion of the horse grew more painful. +At last a faint odor of pine-needles roused her sinking senses and she +opened her heavy eyes. They had left the sickening edge of the cañon +and Alchise was leading them into a beautiful growth of pines where the +mournful hooting of owls gave a graveyard sadness to the moon-flecked +shadows. +</P> + +<P> +Here, in a long aisle of columnar pines, Kut-le called the first halt. +Rhoda reeled in her saddle. Before her horse had stopped, Kut-le was +beside her, unfastening her waist strap and lifting her to the ground. +He pulled the blanket from his own shoulders and Molly stretched it on +the soft pine-needles. Rhoda, half delirious, looked up into the young +Indian's face with the pathetic unconsciousness of a sick child. He +laid her carefully on the blanket. The two squaws hurriedly knelt at +Rhoda's side and with clever hands rubbed and manipulated the slender, +exhausted body until the girl opened her languid eyes. +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le, while this was being done, stood quietly by the blanket, his +fine face stern and intent. When Rhoda opened her eyes, he put aside +the two squaws, knelt and raised the girl's head and held a cup of the +rich broth to her lips. It was cold, yet it tasted good, and Rhoda +finished the cup without protest, then struggled to a sitting position. +After a moment Kut-le raised her gently to her feet. Here, however, +she pushed him away and walked unsteadily to her horse. Kut-le's hands +dropped to his side and he stood in the moonlight watching the frail +boyish figure clamber with infinite travail into the saddle. +</P> + +<P> +From the pine wood, the trail led downward. The rubbing and the broth +had put new life into Rhoda, and for a little while she kept a clear +brain. For the first time it occurred to her that instead of following +the Indians so stupidly she ought to watch her chance and at the first +opportunity make a wild dash off into the darkness. Kut-le was so sure +of her weakness and cowardice that she felt that he would be taken +completely by surprise and she might elude him. With a definite +purpose in her mind she was able to fight off again and again the blur +of weakness that threatened her. +</P> + +<P> +As the trail widened in the descent, Kut-le rode in beside her. +</P> + +<P> +"Feeling better?" he asked cheerfully. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda made no reply. Such a passion of hatred for the man shook her +that words failed her. She turned a white face toward him, the eyes +black, the nostrils quivering with passion. +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le laughed softly. +</P> + +<P> +"Hate me, Rhoda! Hate me as much as you wish! That's a heap more +hopeful than indifference. I'll bet you aren't thinking of dying of +ennui now!" +</P> + +<P> +What fiend, thought Rhoda, ever had induced her to make a friend of +this savage! She clung to the pommel of her saddle, her eyes fastened +on him. If only he would drop dead as he sat! If only his Indians +would turn on him and kill him! +</P> + +<P> +They were riding through the desert now, desert thick-grown with cactus +and sage-brush. Suddenly a far away roar came to Rhoda's ears. There +was a faint whistle repeated with increasing loudness. Off to the +north appeared a light that grew till it threw a dazzling beam on the +strange little waiting group. The train passed, a half-dozen dimly +lighted Pullmans. The roaring decreased, the whistle sounded lower and +lower and the night was silent. Rhoda sat following the last dim light +with burning eyes. Kut-le led the way from the difficult going of the +desert to the road-bed. As Rhoda saw the long line of rails the panic +of the previous night overwhelmed her. Like a mad thing, unmindful of +the strap about her waist she threw herself from the saddle and hung +against the stolid pony. Kut-le dismounted and undid the strap. The +girl dropped to the ties and lay crouched with her face against the +steel rail. +</P> + +<P> +"O John! O John DeWitt!" she sobbed. +</P> + +<P> +"Alchise, go ahead with the horses," said Kut-le. "Wait for me at the +painted rock." +</P> + +<P> +Then as the Indians became indistinguishable along the track he lifted +Rhoda to her feet. +</P> + +<P> +"Walk for a while," he said. "It will rest you. Poor little girl! I +wish I could have managed differently but this was best for you. Come, +don't be afraid of me!" +</P> + +<P> +Some savage instinct stirred in Rhoda. For the first time in her life +she felt an insane joy in anger. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not afraid of you, you Apache Indian!" she said clearly. "I +loathe you! Your touch poisons me! But I'm not afraid of you! I +shall choke myself with my bare hands before you shall harm me! And if +you keep me long enough I shall try to kill you!" +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le gave a short laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"Listen, Rhoda. Your protests show that you are afraid of me. But you +need not be. Your protection lies in the fact that I love you—love +you with all the passion of a savage, all the restraint of a Caucasian. +I'd rather die than harm you! Why, girl, I'm saving you, not +destroying you! Rhoda! Dear one!" He paused and Rhoda could hear his +quickened breath. Then he added lightly, "Let's get on with our little +stroll!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda wrung her hands and groaned. Only to escape—to escape! +Suddenly turning, she ran down the track. Kut-le watched her, +motionless, until she had run perhaps a hundred yards, then with a few +mighty leaps he overtook her and gathered her to his great chest. +Moaning, Rhoda lay still. +</P> + +<P> +"Dear," said Kut-le, "don't exert yourself foolishly. If you must +escape, lay your plans carefully. Use your brain. Don't act like a +child. I love you, Rhoda!" +</P> + +<P> +"I loathe you! I loathe you!" whispered the girl. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't—ah—" He stopped abruptly and set the girl on the ground. +They were standing beside a side-track near a desert water-tank. "I've +caught my foot in a switch-frog," muttered Kut-le, keeping his hold on +Rhoda with one hand while with the other he tugged at his moccasined +foot. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda stood rigid. +</P> + +<P> +"I hear a train!" she cried. "O dear God, I hear a train!" Then, "The +other Indians are too far away to reach you before the train does," she +added calmly. +</P> + +<P> +"But I'll never loose my grip on you," returned the Indian grimly. +</P> + +<P> +He tore at the imprisoned foot, ripping the moccasin and tearing at the +road bed. The rails began to sing. Far down the track they saw a star +of light Rhoda's heart stood still. This, then, was to be the end! +After all the months of distant menace, death was to be upon her in a +moment! This, then, was to be the solution! And with all the horror +of what life might mean to her, she cried out with a sob: +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, not this way! Not this way!" +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le gave her a quick push. +</P> + +<P> +"Hurry," he said, "and try to remember good things of me!" +</P> + +<P> +With a cry of joy, Rhoda jumped from the track, then stopped. There +flashed across her inner vision the face of young Cartwell, debonair +and dark, with unfathomable eyes; young Cartwell who had saved her life +when the scorpion had stung her, who had spent hours trying to lead her +back to health. Instantly she turned and staggered back to the Indian. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't let a human being die like a trapped animal!" she panted, and +she threw herself wildly against him. +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le fell at the unexpected impact of her weight and his foot was +freed! He lifted Rhoda, leaped from the track, and the second section +of the tourist train thundered into the west. +</P> + +<P> +"You are as fine as I thought you were—" he began. But Rhoda was a +limp heap at his feet. +</P> + +<P> +The girl came to her senses partially when Kut-le set her in the saddle +and fastened her there with strap and blanket. But happily she was +practically unconscious for the hour or two that remained till dawn. +Just as day was breaking the Indians made their way across an arroyo +and up a long slope to a group of cottonwoods. Here Rhoda was put to +bed on a heap of blankets. +</P> + +<P> +Sometime in the afternoon she woke with a clear head. It was the first +time in months that she had wakened without a headache. She stared +from the shade of the cottonwoods to the distant lavender haze of the +desert. There was not a sound in all the world. Mysterious, remote, +the desert stared back at her, mocking her little grief. More terrible +to her than her danger in Kut-le's hands, more appalling than the death +threat that had hung over her so long, was this sense of awful space, +of barren nothingness with which the desert oppressed her. +Instinctively she turned to look for human companionship. Kut-le and +Alchise were not to be seen but Molly nodded beside Rhoda's blankets +and the thin hag Cesca was curled in the grass near by, asleep. +</P> + +<P> +"You awake? Heap hungry?" asked Molly suddenly. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda sat up, groaning at the torturing stiffness of her muscles. +</P> + +<P> +"Where is Kut-le?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Gone get 'em supper. Alchise gone too." +</P> + +<P> +"Molly," Rhoda took the rough brown hand between both her soft cold +palms, "Molly, will you help me to run away?" +</P> + +<P> +Molly looked from the clasping fingers up to Rhoda's sweet face. Molly +was a squaw, dirty and ignorant. Rhoda was the delicate product of a +highly cultivated civilization, egoistic, narrow-viewed, self-centered. +And yet Rhoda, looking into Molly's deep brown eyes, saw there that +limitless patience and fortitude and gentleness which is woman's +without regard to class or color. And not knowing why, the white girl +bowed her head on the squaw's fat shoulder and sobbed a little. A +strange look came into Molly's face. She was childless and had worked +fearfully to justify her existence to her tribe. Few hands had touched +hers in tenderness. Few voices had appealed to her for sympathy. +Suddenly Molly clasped Rhoda in her strong arms and swayed back and +forth with her gently. +</P> + +<P> +"You no cry!" she said. "You no cry, little Sun-head, you no cry!" +</P> + +<P> +"Molly, dear kind Molly, won't you help me to get back to my own +people? Suppose it was your daughter that a white man had stolen! O +Molly, I want to go home!" +</P> + +<P> +Molly still rocked and spoke in the singsong voice one uses to a +sobbing child. +</P> + +<P> +"You no run 'way! Kut-le catch right off! Make it all harder for you!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda shivered a little. +</P> + +<P> +"If I once get away, Kut-le never will catch me alive!" +</P> + +<P> +Molly chuckled indulgently. +</P> + +<P> +"How you run? No <I>sabe</I> how eat, how drink, how find the trail! +Better stay with Molly." +</P> + +<P> +"I would wait till I thought we were near a town. Won't you help me? +Dear, kind Molly, won't you help me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Kut-le kill Molly with cactus torture!" +</P> + +<P> +"But you go with me!" The sobs ceased and Rhoda sat back on her +blankets as the idea developed. "You go with me and I'll make you—" +</P> + +<P> +Neither noticed the soft thud of moccasined feet. Suddenly Alchise +seized Molly's black hair and with a violent jerk pulled the woman +backward. Rhoda forgot her stiffened muscles, forgot her gentle +ancestry. She sprang at Alchise with catlike fury and struck his +fingers from Molly's hair. +</P> + +<P> +"You fiend! I wish I could shoot you!" she panted, her fingers +twitching. +</P> + +<P> +Alchise retreated a step. +</P> + +<P> +"She try help 'em run!" he said sullenly. +</P> + +<P> +"She was not! And no matter if she was! Don't you touch a woman +before me!" +</P> + +<P> +A swift shadow crossed the camp and Alchise was hurled six feet away. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter!" cried Kut-le. "Has he laid finger on you, Rhoda?" +He strode to her side and looked down at her with eyes in which +struggled anger and anxiety. +</P> + +<P> +"No!" blazed Rhoda. "But he pulled Molly over backward by her hair!" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" in evident relief. "And what was Molly doing?" +</P> + +<P> +"She maybe help 'em run," said Alchise, coming forward. +</P> + +<P> +The relief in Kut-le's voice increased Rhoda's anger. +</P> + +<P> +"No such thing! She was persuading me not to go! Kut-le, you give +Alchise orders not to touch Molly again. I won't have it!" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, that's not necessary," said Kut-le serenely. "Indians are pretty +good to their women as a general thing. They average up with the +whites, I guess. Molly, get up and help Cesca with these!" He flung +some newly killed rabbits at the gaping squaw, who still lay where she +had fallen. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda, trembling and glowering, walked unsteadily up and down beneath +the cottonwoods. The details of her new existence, the dirt, the +roughness, were beginning to sink in on her. She paced back and forth, +lips compressed, eyes black. Kut-le stood with his back against a +cottonwood eying the slender figure with frank delight. Now and again +he chuckled as he rolled a cigarette with his facile finger. His hands +were fine as only an Indian's can be: strong and sinewy yet supple with +slender fingers and almond-shaped nails. +</P> + +<P> +He smoked contentedly with his eyes on the girl. Inscrutable as was +his face at a casual glance, had Rhoda observed keenly she might have +read much in the changing light of his eyes. There was appreciation of +her and love of her and a merciless determination to hold her at all +costs. And still as he gazed there was that tragedy in his look which +is part and portion of the Indian's face. +</P> + +<P> +Silence in the camp had continued for some time when a strange young +Indian strode up the slope, nodded to the group in the camp, and +deliberately rolled himself in a blanket and dropped to sleep. Rhoda +stared at him questioningly. +</P> + +<P> +"Alchise's and Cesca's son," said Kut-le. "His job is to follow us at +a distance and remove all trace of our trail. Not an overturned pebble +misses his eye. I'll need him only for a day or two." +</P> + +<P> +"Kut-le," said Rhoda suddenly, "when are you going to end the farce and +let me go?" +</P> + +<P> +The young man smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"You know the way the farce usually ends! The man always gets the girl +and they live happily forever after!" +</P> + +<P> +"What do you suppose Jack and Katherine think of you? They have loved +and trusted you so!" +</P> + +<P> +For the first time the Indian's face showed pain. +</P> + +<P> +"My hope is," he said, "that after they see how happy I am going to +make you they will forgive me." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda controlled her voice with difficulty. +</P> + +<P> +"Can't you see what you have done? No matter what the outcome, can you +believe that I or any one that loves me can forgive the outrage to me?" +</P> + +<P> +"After we have married and lived abroad for a year or two people will +remember only the romance of it!". +</P> + +<P> +"Heavens!" ejaculated Rhoda. She returned to her angry walking. +</P> + +<P> +Molly was preparing supper. She worked always with one eye on Rhoda, +as if she could not see enough of the girl's fragile loveliness. With +her attention thus divided, she stumbled constantly, dropping the pots +and spilling the food. She herself was not at all disturbed by her +mishaps but, with a grimace and a chuckle, picked up the food. But +Cesca was annoyed. She was tending the fire which by a marvel of skill +she kept always clear and all but smokeless. At each of Molly's +mishaps, Cesca hurled a stone at her friend's back with a savage +"Me-yah!" that disturbed Molly not at all. +</P> + +<P> +Mercifully night was on the camp by the time the rabbits were cooked +and Rhoda ate unconscious of the dirt the food had acquired in the +cooking. When the silent meal was finished, Kut-le pointed to Rhoda's +blankets. +</P> + +<P> +"We will start in half an hour. You must rest during that time." +</P> + +<P> +Too weary to resent the peremptory tone, Rhoda obeyed. The fire long +since had been extinguished and the camp was dark. The Indians were to +be located only by faint whispers under the trees. The opportunity +seemed providential! Rhoda slipped from her blankets and crept through +the darkness away from the camp. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE FIRST LESSON +</H3> + + +<P> +After crawling on her hands and knees for several yards, Rhoda rose and +started on a run down the long slope to the open desert. But after a +few steps she found running impossible, for the slope was a wilderness +of rock, thickly grown with cholla and yucca with here and there a +thicker growth of cat's-claw. +</P> + +<P> +Almost at once her hands were torn and bleeding and she thought +gratefully for the first time of her buckskin trousers which valiantly +resisted all detaining thorns. The way dropped rapidly and after her +first wild spurt Rhoda leaned exhausted and panting against a boulder. +She had not the vaguest idea of where she was going or of what she was +going to do, except that she was going to lose herself so thoroughly +that not even Kut-le could find her. After that she was quite willing +to trust to fate. +</P> + +<P> +After a short rest she started on, every sense keen for the sound of +pursuit, but none came. As the silent minutes passed Rhoda became +elated. How easy it was! What a pity that she had not tried before! +At the foot of the slope, she turned up the arroyo. Here her course +grew heavier. The arroyo was cut by deep ruts and gullies down which +the girl slid and tumbled in mad haste only to find rock masses over +which she crawled with utmost difficulty. Now and again the stout +vamps of her hunting boots were pierced by chollas and, half frantic in +her haste, she was forced to stop and struggle to pull out the thorns. +</P> + +<P> +It was not long before the girl's scant strength was gone, and when +after a mad scramble she fell from a boulder to the ground, she was too +done up to rise. She lay face to the stars, half sobbing with +excitement and disappointment. After a time, however, the sobs ceased +and she lay thinking. She knew now that until she was inured to the +desert and had a working knowledge of its ways, escape was impossible. +She must bide her time and wait for her friends to rescue her. She had +no idea how far she had come from the Indian camp. Whether or not +Kut-le could find her again she could not guess. If he did not, then +unless a white stumbled on her she must die in the desert. Well then, +let it be so! The old lethargy closed in on her and she lay motionless +and hopeless. +</P> + +<P> +From all sides she heard the night howls of the coyote packs circling +nearer and nearer. Nothing could more perfectly interpret the horrible +desolation of the desert, Rhoda thought, than the demoniacal, +long-drawn laughter of the coyote. How long she lay she neither knew +nor cared. But just as she fancied that the coyotes had drawn so near +that she could hear their footsteps, a hand was laid on her arm. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you had enough, Rhoda?" asked Kut-le. +</P> + +<P> +"No!" shuddered Rhoda. "I'd rather die here!" +</P> + +<P> +The Indian laughed softly as he lifted her from the ground. +</P> + +<P> +"A good hater makes a good lover, Rhoda," he said. "I wish I'd had +time to let you learn your lesson more thoroughly. I haven't been +twenty-five feet away from you since you left the camp. I wanted you +to try your hand at it just so you'd realize what you are up against. +But you've tired yourself badly." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda lay mute in the young man's arms. She was not thinking of his +words but of the first time that the Indian had carried her. She saw +John DeWitt's protesting face, and tears of weakness and despair ran +silently down her cheeks. Kut-le strode rapidly and, unhesitatingly +over the course she had followed so painfully and in a few moments they +were among the waiting Indians. +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le put Rhoda in her saddle, fastened her securely and put a Navajo +about her shoulders. The night's misery was begun. Whether they went +up and down mountains, whether they crossed deserts, Rhoda neither knew +nor cared. The blind purpose of clinging to the saddle was the one aim +of the dreadful night. She was a little light-headed at times and with +her head against the horse's neck, she murmured John DeWitt's name, or +sitting erect she called to him wildly. At such times Kut-le's fingers +tightened and he clinched his teeth, but he did not go to her. When, +however, the frail figure drooped silently and inertly against the +waist strap he seemed to know even in the darkness. Then and then only +he lifted her down, the squaws massaged her wracked body, and she was +put in the saddle again. Over and over during the night this was +repeated until at dawn Rhoda was barely conscious that after being +lifted to the ground she was not remounted but was covered carefully +and left in peace. +</P> + +<P> +It was late in the afternoon again when Rhoda woke. She pushed aside +her blankets and tried to get up but fell back with a groan. The +stiffness of the previous days was nothing whatever to the misery that +now held every muscle rigid. The overexertion of three nights in the +saddle which the massaging had so far mitigated had asserted itself and +every muscle in the girl's body seemed acutely painful. To lift her +hand to her hair, to draw a long breath, to turn her head, was almost +impossible. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda looked dismally about her. The camp this time was on the side of +a mountain that lay in a series of mighty ranges, each separated from +the other by a narrow strip of desert. White and gold gleamed the +snow-capped peaks. Purple and lavender melted the shimmering desert +into the lifting mesas. Rhoda threw her arm across her eyes to hide +the hateful sight, and moaned in pain at the movement. +</P> + +<P> +Molly ran to her side. +</P> + +<P> +"Your bones heap sick? Molly rub 'em?" she asked eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +"O Molly, if you would!" replied Rhoda gratefully, and she wondered at +the skill and gentleness of the Indian woman who manipulated the aching +muscles with such rapidity and firmness that in a little while Rhoda +staggered stiffly to her feet. +</P> + +<P> +"Molly," she said, "I want to wash my face." +</P> + +<P> +Molly puckered up her own face in her effort to understand, and +scratched her head. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't <I>sabe</I> that," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"Wash my face!" repeated Rhoda in astonishment. "Of course you +understand." +</P> + +<P> +Molly laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"No! You no wash! No use! You just get cold—heap cold!" +</P> + +<P> +"Molly!" called Kut-le's authoritative voice. +</P> + +<P> +Molly went flying toward the packs, from which she returned with a +canteen and a tiny pitch-smeared basket. Kut-le followed with a towel. +He grinned at Rhoda. +</P> + +<P> +"Molly is possessed with the idea that anything as frail as you would +be snuffed out like a candle by a drop of water. You and I each +possess a lone lorn towel which we must wash out ourselves till the end +of the trip. The squaws don't know when a thing is clean." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda took the towel silently, and the young Indian, after waiting a +minute as if in hope of a word from her, left the girl to her difficult +toilet. When Rhoda had finished she picked up the field-glasses that +Kut-le had left on her blankets and with her back to the Indians sat +down on a rock to watch the desert. +</P> + +<P> +The sordid discomforts of the camp seemed to her unbearable. She hated +the blue haze of the desert below and beyond her. She hated the very +ponies that Alchise was leading up from water. It was the fourth day +since her abduction. Rhoda could not understand why John and the +Newmans were so slow to overtake her. She knew nothing as yet of the +skill of her abductors. She was like an ignorant child placed in a new +world whose very ABC was closed to her. After always having been cared +for and protected, after never having known a hardship, the girl +suddenly was thrust into an existence whose savage simplicity was +sufficient to try the hardiest man. +</P> + +<P> +Supper was eaten in silence, Kut-le finally giving up his attempts to +make conversation. It was dusk when they mounted and rode up the +mountain. Near the crest a whirling cloud of mist enveloped them. It +became desperately cold and Rhoda shivered beneath her Navajo but +Kut-le gave no heed to her. He led on and on, the horses slipping, the +cold growing every minute more intense. At last there appeared before +them a dim figure silhouetted against a flickering light. Kut-le +halted his party and rode forward; Rhoda saw the dim figure rise +hastily and after a short time Kut-le called back. +</P> + +<P> +"Come ahead!" +</P> + +<P> +The little camp was only an open space at the cañon edge, with a +sheepskin shelter over a tiny fire. Beside the fire stood a +sheep-herder, a swarthy figure wrapped from head to foot in sheepskins. +Over in the darkness by the mountain wall were the many nameless sounds +that tell of animals herding for the night. The shepherd greeted them +with the perfect courtesy of the Mexican. +</P> + +<P> +"Señors, the camp is yours!" +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le lifted the shivering Rhoda from her horse. The rain was +lessening but the cold was still so great that Rhoda huddled gratefully +by the little fire under the sheepskin shelter. Kut-le refused the +Mexican's offer of tortillas and the man sat down to enjoy their +society. He eyed Rhoda keenly. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah! It is a señorita!" Then he gasped. "It is perhaps the Señorita +Rhoda Tuttle!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda jumped to her feet. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes! Yes! How did you know?" +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le glared at the herder menacingly, but the little fellow did not +see. He spoke up bravely, as if he had a message for Rhoda. +</P> + +<P> +"Some people told me yesterday. They look for her everywhere!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda's eyes lighted joyfully. +</P> + +<P> +"Who? Where?" she cried. +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le spoke concisely: +</P> + +<P> +"You know nothing!" he said. +</P> + +<P> +The Mexican looked into the Apache's eyes and shivered slightly. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing, of course, Señor," he replied. +</P> + +<P> +But Rhoda was not daunted. +</P> + +<P> +"Who were they?" she repeated. "What did they say? Where did they go?" +</P> + +<P> +The herder glanced at Rhoda and shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Quién sabe</I>?" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda turned to Kut-le in anger. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't be more brutal than you have to be!" she cried. "What harm can +it do for this man to give me word of my friends?" +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le's eyes softened. +</P> + +<P> +"Answer the señorita's questions, amigo," he said. +</P> + +<P> +The Mexican began eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +"There were three. They rode up the trail one day ago. They called +the dark man Porter, the big blue-eyed one DeWitt, and the +yellow-haired one Newman." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda clasped her hands with a little murmur of relief. +</P> + +<P> +"The blue-eyed one acted as if locoed. They cursed much at a name, +Kut-le. But otherwise they talked little. They went that way," +pointing back over the trail. "They had found a scarf with a stone +tied in it—" +</P> + +<P> +"What's that?" interrupted Kut-le sharply. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda's eyes shone in the firelight. +</P> + +<P> +"'Not an overturned pebble escapes his eye,'" she said serenely. +</P> + +<P> +"Bully for you!" exclaimed Kut-le, smiling at Rhoda in understanding. +"However, I guess we will move on, having gleaned this interesting +news!" +</P> + +<P> +He remounted his little party. Rhoda reeled a little but she made no +protest. As they took to the trail again the sheep-herder stood by the +fire, watching, and Rhoda called to him: +</P> + +<P> +"If you see them again tell them that I'm all right but that they must +hurry!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda felt new life in her veins after the meeting with the +sheep-herder and finished the night's trail in better shape than she +had done before. Yet not the next day nor for many days did they sight +pursuers. With ingenuity that seemed diabolical, Kut-le laid his +course. He seldom moved hurriedly. Indeed, except for the fact that +the traveling was done by night, the expedition had every aspect of +unlimited leisure. +</P> + +<P> +As the days passed, Rhoda forced herself to the calm of desperation. +Slowly she realized that she was in the hands of the masters of the art +of flight, an art that the very cruelty of the country abetted. But to +her utter astonishment her delirium of physical misery began to lift. +Saddle stiffness after the first two weeks left her. Though Kut-le +still fastened her to the saddle by the waist strap and rested her for +a short time every hour or so during the night's ride, the hours in the +saddle ceased to tax her strength. She was surprised to find that she +could eat—eat the wretched cooking of the squaws! +</P> + +<P> +At last she laid out a definite course for herself. Every night on the +trail and at every camp she tried to leave some mark for the whites—a +scratch on pebble or stone, a bit of marked yucca or a twisted +cat's-claw. She ceased entirely to speak to Kut-le, treating him with +a contemptuous silence that was torture to the Indian though he gave no +outward sign. +</P> + +<P> +Molly was her devoted friend and Rhoda derived great comfort from this +faithful servitor. Rhoda sat in the camp one afternoon with the two +squaws while Kut-le and Alchise were off on a turkey hunt. Some of the +girl's pallor had given way to a delicate tan. The dark circles about +her eyes had lightened a little. Molly was busily pounding grass-seeds +between two stones. Rhoda watched her idly. Suddenly a new idea sent +the blood to her thin cheeks. +</P> + +<P> +Why shouldn't she learn to make seed meal, to catch and cook rabbits, +to distinguish edible cactus from inedible? Then indeed she would be +able to care for herself on the trail! To Rhoda, who never had worked +with her hands, who indeed had come to look on manual labor as +belonging to inferiors, the idea was revolutionary. For a long time +she turned it over in her mind, watching Molly the while. The most +violent housewifely task that Rhoda ever had undertaken had been the +concocting of chafing-dish messes at school. +</P> + +<P> +"Molly," she said suddenly, "teach me how to do that!" +</P> + +<P> +Molly paused and grinned delightedly. +</P> + +<P> +"All right! You come help poor Molly!" +</P> + +<P> +With Cesca looking on sardonically, Molly poured fresh seeds on her +rude metate and showed Rhoda the grinding roll that flattened and broke +the little grains. Despite her weak fingers Rhoda took to the work +easily. As she emptied out the first handful of meal, a curious sense +of pleasure came to her. Squatting before the metate, she looked at +the little pile of bruised seeds with the utmost satisfaction. Molly +poured more seeds on the metate and Rhoda began again. She was hard at +her task, her cheeks flushed with interest, when Kut-le returned. +Rhoda did not see the sudden look of pleasure in his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"You will tire yourself," he said. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda did not answer, but poured another handful of seed on the metate. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll begin to like the life," he went on, "by the time you are +educated enough to leave us." He turned teasingly to Cesca. "You +think the white squaw can cross the desert soon by herself?" +</P> + +<P> +Cesca spat disdainfully. +</P> + +<P> +"No! White squaw no good! All time sit, sit, no work! Kut-le heap +fool!" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Cesca," cried Rhoda, "I'm too sick to work! And see this meal +I've made! Isn't it good?" +</P> + +<P> +Cesca glanced disdainfully at the little heap of meal Rhoda had bruised +out so painfully. +</P> + +<P> +"Huh!" she grunted. "Feed 'em to the horses. Injuns no eat 'em!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda looked from the meal to her slender, tired fingers. Cesca's +contempt hurt her unaccountably. In her weakness her cleft chin +quivered. She turned to Molly. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you think it's so bad, Molly?" +</P> + +<P> +That faithful friend grunted with rage and aimed a vicious kick at +Cesca. Then she put a protecting arm about Rhoda. +</P> + +<P> +"It's heap fine! Cesca just old fool. You love Molly. Let Cesca go +to hell!" +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le had been watching the little scene with tender eyes. Now he +stooped and lifted Rhoda to her feet, then he raised one of the +delicate hands and touched it softly with his lips. +</P> + +<P> +"Leave such work to the squaws, dear! You aren't built for it. Cesca, +you old lobster, you make me tired! Go fix the turkeys!" +</P> + +<P> +Cesca rose with dignity, flipped away her cigarette and walked with a +sniff over to the cooking-pot. Rhoda drew her hands from the young +Indian's clasp and walked to the edge of the camp. The hot pulse that +the touch of Kut-le's lips sent through her body startled her. +</P> + +<P> +"I hate him!" she said to herself. "I hate him! I hate him!" +</P> + +<P> +The trail that night was unusually difficult and Rhoda had to be rested +frequently. At each stop, Kut-le tried to talk to her but she +maintained her silence. They paused at dawn in a pocket formed by the +meeting of three divergent cañons. Far, far above the desert as they +were, still farther above them stretched the wonderful barren ridges, +snow-capped and silent. As Rhoda stood waiting for the squaws to +spread her blankets the peaks were lighted suddenly by the rays of the +still unseen sun. For one unspeakable instant their snow crowns +flashed a translucent scarlet that trembled, shimmered, then melted to +a pink, then to a white so pure, so piercing that Rhoda trembled with +sudden awe. Then as she looked, the sun rolled into view, blinding her +eyes, and she turned to her waiting blankets. +</P> + +<P> +She had slept for several hours when she was wakened by a soft tap on +her shoulder. She opened her eyes and would have risen but a voice +whispered: +</P> + +<P> +"Hush! Don't move!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A BROADENING HORIZON +</H3> + + +<P> +Rhoda lay stiffly, her heart beating wildly. Kut-le and the squaws, +each a muffled, blanketed figure, lay sleeping some distance away. Old +Alchise stood on solitary guard at the edge of the camp with his back +to her. +</P> + +<P> +"Make as if you wanted to shift your blankets toward the cat's-claw +bush behind you!" went on the whispered voice. +</P> + +<P> +Obediently, Rhoda sat erect. Alchise turned slowly to light a +cigarette out of the wind. Rhoda yawned, rose sleepily, looked under +her blanket and shook her, head irritably, then dragged her blankets +toward the neighboring cat's-claw. Again she settled herself to sleep. +Alchise turned back to his view of the desert. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm behind the bush here," whispered the voice. "I'm a prospector. +Saw you make camp. I don't know where any of the search parties are +but if you can crawl round to me I'll guarantee to get you to 'em +somehow. Slip out of your blankets and leave 'em, rounded up as if you +was still under 'em. Quick now and careful!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda, her eyes never leaving Alchise's impassive back, drew herself +silently and swiftly from her blankets and with a clever touch or two +rounded them. Then she crept around the cat's-claw, where a man +squatted, his eyes blazing with excitement. He put up a sinewy, hand +to pull her from sight when, without warning, Rhoda sneezed. +</P> + +<P> +Instantly there was the click of a rifle and Alchise shouted: +</P> + +<P> +"Stop!" +</P> + +<P> +"Confound it!" growled the man, rising to full view, "why didn't you +swallow it!" +</P> + +<P> +"I couldn't!" replied Rhoda indignantly. "You don't suppose I wanted +to!" +</P> + +<P> +She turned toward the camp. Alchise was standing stolidly covering +them with his rifle. Kut-le was walking coolly toward them, while the +squaws sat gaping. +</P> + +<P> +"Well!" exclaimed Kut-le. "What can we do for you, Jim?" +</P> + +<P> +The stranger, a rough tramp-like fellow in tattered overalls, wiped his +face, on which was a week's stubble. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd always thought you was about white, Cartwell," he said, "but I see +you're no better than the rest of them. What are you going to do with +me?" +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le eyed his unbidden guest speculatively. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, we'll have something to eat first. I don't like to think on an +empty stomach. Come over to my blanket and sit down, Jim." +</P> + +<P> +Ignoring Rhoda, who was watching him closely, Kut-le seated himself on +his blanket beside Jim and offered him a cigarette, which was refused. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't want no favors from you, Cartwell." His voice was surly. +There was something more than his rough appearance that Rhoda disliked +about the man but she didn't know just what it was. Kut-le's eyes +narrowed, but he lighted his own cigarette without replying. "You're +up to a rotten trick and you know it, Cartwell," went on Jim. "You +take my advice and let me take the girl back to her friends and you +make tracks down into Mexico as fast as the Lord'll let you." +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le shifted the Navajo that hung over his naked shoulders. He gave +a short laugh that Rhoda had never heard from him before. +</P> + +<P> +"Let her go with you, Jim Provenso! You know as well as I do that she +is safer with an Apache! Anything else?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, this else!" Jim's voice rose angrily. "If ever we get a chance +at you, we'll hang you sky high, see? This may go with Injuns but not +with whites, you dirty pup!" +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly Kut-le rose and, dropping his blanket, stood before the white +man in his bronze perfection. +</P> + +<P> +"Provenso, you aren't fit to look at a decent woman! Don't put on dog +just because you belong to the white race. You're disreputable, and +you know it. Don't speak to Miss Tuttle again; you are too rotten!" +</P> + +<P> +The prospector had risen and stood glaring at Kut-le. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll kill you for that yet, you dirty Injun!" he shouted. +</P> + +<P> +"Shucks!" sniffed the Indian. "You haven't the nerve to injure +anything but a woman!" +</P> + +<P> +Jim's face went purple. +</P> + +<P> +"For two bits I'd knock your block off, right now." +</P> + +<P> +"There isn't a cent in the camp." Kut-le turned to Rhoda. "You get the +point of the conversation, I hope?" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda's eyes were blazing. She had gotten the point, and yet—Jim was +a white man! Anything white was better than an Indian. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd take my chances with Mr. Provenso," she said, joyfully conscious +that nothing could have hurt Kut-le more than this reply. +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le's lips stiffened. +</P> + +<P> +"Lunch is ready," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"None of <I>your</I> grub for mine," remarked Jim. "What are you going to +do with me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Alchise!" called Kut-le. "Eat something, then take this fellow out +and lose him. Take the rest of the day to it. You know the next camp!" +</P> + +<P> +Then he folded his arms across his chest and waited for Alchise to +finish his meal. Jim stood in sullen silence for a minute. Then he +seated himself on a nearby rock. +</P> + +<P> +"No, you don't," he said. "If you get me out of here, you'll have to +use force." +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le shrugged his shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"A gun at your back will move you!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda was looking at the white man's face with a great longing. He was +rough and ugly, but he was of her own breed. Suddenly the longing for +her own that she was beginning to control surged to her lips. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't bear this!" she cried. "I'm going mad! I'm going mad!" +</P> + +<P> +All the camp turned startled faces toward the girl, and Rhoda recovered +her self-possession. She ran to Kut-le and laid her hand on his arm, +lifting a lovely, pleading face to his. +</P> + +<P> +"O Kut-le! Kut-le!" in the tone that she had used to Cartwell. "Can't +you see that it's no use? He is white, Kut-le! Let me go with him! +Let me go back to my own people! O Kut-le, let me go! O let me go!" +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le looked down at the hand on his arm. Rhoda was too excited to +notice that his whole body shook at this unwonted touch. His voice was +caressing but his face remained inscrutable. +</P> + +<P> +"Dear girl," he answered, "he is not your kind! He might originally +have been of your color, but now he's streaked with yellow. Let him +go. You are safer here with me!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda turned from him impatiently. +</P> + +<P> +"It's quite useless," she said to Jim; "no pleading or threat will move +him. But I do thank you—" her voice breaking a little. "Go back with +Alchise and tell them to come for me quickly!" +</P> + +<P> +Some responsive flash of sympathy came to Jim's bleared eyes. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda stood watching Alchise marshall him out of the camp. She moaned +helplessly: +</P> + +<P> +"O my people, my own people!" and Kut-le eyed her with unfathomable +gaze. +</P> + +<P> +As soon as lunch was finished, camp was broken. All the rest of the +day and until toward midnight they wound up a wretched trail that +circled the mountain ranges, For hours, Kut-le did not speak to Rhoda. +These days of Rhoda's contempt were very hard on him. The touch of her +hand that morning, the old note in her voice, still thrilled him. At +midnight as they watched the squaws unroll her blankets, he touched her +shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"Dear," he said, in his rich voice, "it is in you to love me if only I +am patient. And—God, but it's worth all the starvation in the +meantime! Won't you say good-night to me, Rhoda?" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda looked at the stalwart figure in the firelight. The young eyes +so tragic in their youth, the beautiful mouth, sad in its firm curves, +were strangely appealing. Just for an instant the horrors of the past +weeks vanished. +</P> + +<P> +"Good-night!" said Rhoda. Then she rolled herself in her blankets and +slept. By the next morning, however, the old repulsion had returned +and she made no response to Kut-le's overtures. +</P> + +<P> +Day succeeded day now, until Rhoda lost all track of time. Endlessly +they crossed desert and mountain ridges. Endlessly they circled +through dusky cañon and sun-baked arroyo. Always Rhoda looked forward +to each new camping-place with excitement. Here, the rescuers might +stumble upon them! Always she started at each unexpected shadow along +the trail. Always she thrilled at a wisp of smokelike cloud beyond the +cañon edge. Always she felt a quiver of certainty at sudden break of +twig or fall of stone. But the days passed and gradually hope changed +to desperation. +</P> + +<P> +The difficulties of the camp life would have been unbearable to her had +not her natural fortitude and her intense pride come to her rescue. +The estimate of her that Kut-le had so mercilessly presented to her the +first day of her abduction returned to her more and more clearly as the +days wore on. At first she thought of them only with scorn. Then as +her loneliness increased and she was forced back upon herself she grew +to wonder what in her had given the Indian such an opinion. There was +something in the nakedness of the desert, something in its piercing +austerity that forced her to truthfulness with herself. Little by +little she found herself trying to acquire Kut-le's view of her. +</P> + +<P> +Her liking for Molly grew. She spent long afternoons with the squaw, +picking up desert lore. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you like to work, Molly?" she asked the squaw one afternoon, as she +sorted seed for Molly to bruise. +</P> + +<P> +"What else to do?" asked Molly. "Sit with hands folded on stomach, so? +No! Still hands make crazy head. Now you work with your hands you no +so sorry in head, huh?" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda thought for a moment. There was a joy in the rude camp tasks +that she had assumed that she never had found in golf or automobiling. +She nodded, then said wistfully: +</P> + +<P> +"You think I'm no good at all, don't you, Molly?" +</P> + +<P> +Molly shrugged her shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"Me not got papooses. You not got papooses. Molly and you no good! +Molly is heap strong. What good is that? When she die she no has +given her strength to tribe, no done any good that will last. You are +heap beautiful. What good is that? You no give your face to your +tribe. What good are you? Molly and you might as well die tomorrow. +Work, have papooses, die. That all squaws are for. Great Spirit says +so. Squaw's own heart says so." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda sat silently looking at the squaw's squat figure, the +toil-scarred fingers, the good brown eyes out of which looked a woman's +soul. Vaguely Rhoda caught a point of view that made her old ideals +seem futile. She smoothed the Indian woman's hands. +</P> + +<P> +"I sometimes think you are a bigger woman than I am, Molly," she said +humbly. +</P> + +<P> +"You are heap good to look at." Molly spoke wistfully. "Molly heap +homely. You think that makes any difference to the Great Spirit?" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda's eyes widened, a little. Did it make any difference? After +all, what counted with the Great Spirit? She stared at the barren +ranges that lifted mute peaks to the silent heavens. Always, always +the questions and so vague the answers! Suddenly Rhoda knew that her +beauty had counted greatly with her all her life, had given her her +sense of superiority to the rest of the world. Rhoda squirmed. She +hated this faculty of the Indians and the desert to make her seem +small. She never had felt so with her own kind. Her own kind! Would +she never again know the deference, the gentleness, the loving +tenderness of her own people? Rhoda forgot Molly's wistful question. +</P> + +<P> +"O Molly!" she cried. "I can't stand this! I want my own people! I +want my own people!" +</P> + +<P> +Molly's eyes filled with tears. +</P> + +<P> +"No! No cry, little Sun-streak!" she pleaded, putting an arm around +Rhoda and holding her to her tenderly. "Any peoples that loves you is +your own peoples. Kut-le loves you. Molly loves you. We your peoples +too!" +</P> + +<P> +"No! No! Never!" sobbed Rhoda. "Molly, if you love me, take me back +to my own kind! You shall never leave me, Molly! I do love you. You +are an Indian but somehow I have a feeling for you I never had for any +one else." +</P> + +<P> +A sudden light of passionate adoration burned in Molly's eyes, a light +that never was to leave them again when they gazed on Rhoda. But she +shook her head. +</P> + +<P> +"You ask Molly to give up her peoples but you don't want to give up +yours. You stay with Molly and Kut-le. Learn what desert say 'bout +life, 'bout people. When you <I>sabe</I> what the desert say 'bout that you +<I>sabe</I> almost much as Great Spirit!" +</P> + +<P> +"Molly, listen! When Kut-le and Alchise go off on one of their hunts +and Cesca goes to sleep, you and I will steal off and hide until night, +and you will show me how to get home again. O Molly, I'll be very good +to you if you will do this for me! Don't you see how foolish Kut-le +is? I can never, never marry him! His ways are not my ways. My ways +are not his! Always I will be white and he Indian. He will get over +this craze for me and want one of his own kind. Molly, listen to your +heart! It must tell you white to the white, Indian to the Indian. +Dear, dear Molly, I want to go home!" +</P> + +<P> +"No! No! Molly promise Kut-le to keep his white squaw for him. +Injuns they always keep promises. And Molly <I>sabe</I> some day when you +learn more you be heap glad old Molly keep you for Kut-le." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda turned away with a sigh at the note of finality in Molly's voice. +Kut-le was climbing the trail toward the camp with a little pile of +provisions. So far he had not failed to procure when needed some sort +of rations—bacon, flour and coffee—though since her abduction Rhoda +had seen no human habitation, Cesca was preparing supper. She was +pounding a piece of meat on a flat stone, muttering to herself when a +piece fell to the ground. Sometimes she wiped the sand from the fallen +bit on her skirt. More often she flung it into the stew-pot unwiped. +</P> + +<P> +"Cesca!" cried Rhoda, "do keep the burro out of the meat!" The burro +that Kut-le recently had acquired was sniffing at the meat. +</P> + +<P> +Cesca gave no heed except to murmur, "Burro heap hungry!" +</P> + +<P> +"I am going to begin to cook my own meals, Molly," said Rhoda. "I am +strong enough now, and Cesca is so dirty!" +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le entered the camp in time to hear Rhoda's resolution. +</P> + +<P> +"Will you let me eat with you?" he asked courteously. "I don't enjoy +dirt, myself!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda stared at the young man. The calm effrontery of him, the +cleverness of him, to ask a favor of her! She turned from him to the +distant ranges. She did not realize how much she turned from the +roughness of the camp to the far desert views! Brooding, aloof, how +big the ranges were, how free, how calm! For the first time her +keeping Kut-le in Coventry seemed foolish to her. Of what avail was +her silence, except to increase her own loneliness? Suddenly she +smiled grimly. The game was a good one. Perhaps she could play it as +well as the Indian. +</P> + +<P> +"If you wish, you may," she said coldly. +</P> + +<P> +Then she ignored the utter joy and astonishment in the young man's face +and set about roasting the rabbit that Molly had dressed. She tossed +the tortillas as Molly had taught her and baked them over the coals. +She set forth the cans and baskets that formed the camp dinner-set and +served the primitive meal. Kut-le watched the preparations silently. +When the rabbit was cooked the two sat down on either side of the flat +rock that served as a table while the other three squatted about +Cesca's stew-pot near the fire. +</P> + +<P> +It was the first time that Rhoda and Kut-le had eaten tête-à-tête. +Hitherto Rhoda had taken her food off to a secluded corner and eaten it +alone. There was an intimacy in thus sitting together at the meal +Rhoda had prepared, that both felt. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you glad you did this for me, Rhoda?" asked Kut-le. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't do it for you!" returned Rhoda. "I did it for my own +comfort!" +</P> + +<P> +Something in her tone narrowed the Indian's eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Why should you speak as a queen to a poor devil of a subject? By what +particular mark of superiority are you exempt from work? For a time +you have had the excuse of illness, but you no longer have that. I +should say that making tortillas was better than sitting in sloth while +they are made for you! Do you never have any sense of shame that you +are forever taking and never giving?" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda answered angrily. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not at all interested in your opinions." +</P> + +<P> +But the young Apache went on. +</P> + +<P> +"It makes me tired to hear the white women of your class talk of their +equality to men! You don't do a thing to make you equal. You live off +some one else. You don't even produce children. Huh! No wonder +nature kicks you out with all manner of illness. You are mere cloggers +of the machinery. For heaven's sake, wake up, Rhoda! Except for your +latent possibilities, you aren't in it with Molly!" +</P> + +<P> +"You have some touchstone, I suppose," replied Rhoda contemptuously, +"by which you are made competent to sit in judgment on mankind?" +</P> + +<P> +"I sure have!" said Kut-le. "It is that you so live that you die +spiritually richer than you were born. Life is a simple thing, after +all. To keep one's body and soul healthy, to bear children, to give +more than we take. And I believe that in the end it will seem to have +been worth while." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda made no answer. Kut-le ate on in silence for a time, then he +said wistfully: +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you enjoy this meal with me, just a little?" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda glanced from Kut-le's naked body to her own torn clothing, then +at the crude meal. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't enjoy it, no," she answered quietly. +</P> + +<P> +Something in the quiet sincerity of the voice caused Kut-le to rise +abruptly and order the Indians to break camp. But on the trail that +night he rode close beside her whenever the way permitted and talked to +her of the beauty of the desert. At last, lashed to desperation by her +indifference, he cried: +</P> + +<P> +"Can't you see that your silence leads to nothing—that it maddens me!" +</P> + +<P> +"That is what I want it to do," returned Rhoda calmly. "I shall be so +glad if I can make you suffer a touch of what I am enduring!" +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le did not reply for a moment, then he began slowly: +</P> + +<P> +"You imagine that I am not suffering? Try to put yourself in my place +for a moment! Can't you see how I love you? Can't you see that my +stealing was the only thing that I could do, loving you so? Wouldn't +you have done the same in my place? If I had been a white man I +wouldn't have been driven to this. I would have had an equal chance +with DeWitt and could have won easily. But I had all the prejudice +against my alien race to fight. There was but one thing to do: to take +you to the naked desert where you would be forced to see life as I see +it, where you would be forced to see me, the man, far from any false +standards of civilization." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda would have replied but Kut-le gave her no chance. +</P> + +<P> +"I know what white conventions demand of me. But, I tell you, my love +is above them. I, not suffer! Rhoda! To see you in pain! To see +your loathing of me! To have you helpless in my arms and yet to keep +you safe! Rhoda! Rhoda! Do you believe I do not suffer?" +</P> + +<P> +Anger died out of Rhoda. She saw tragedy in the situation, tragedy +that was not hers. She saw herself and Kut-le racially, not +individually. She saw Kut-le suffering all the helpless grief of race +alienation, saw him the victim of passions as great as the desires of +the alien races for the white always must be. Rhoda forgot herself. +She laid a slender hand on Kut-le's. +</P> + +<P> +"I am sorry," she said softly. "I think I begin to understand. But, +Kut-le, it can never, never be! You are fighting a battle that was +lost when the white and Indian races were created. It can never, never +be, Kut-le." +</P> + +<P> +The strong brown hand had closed over the small white one instantly. +</P> + +<P> +"It must be!" he said hoarsely. "I put my whole life on it! It must +be!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda pulled her hand away gently. +</P> + +<P> +"It never, never can be!" +</P> + +<P> +"It shall be! Love like this comes but seldom to a human. It is the +most potent thing in the world. It shall—" +</P> + +<P> +"Kut-le!" Alchise rode forward, pointing to the right. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda followed his look. It was nearly dawn. At the right was the +sheer wall of a mesa as smooth and impregnable to her eyes as a wall of +glass. Moving toward them, silent as ghosts in the veil-like dawn, and +cutting them from the mesa, was a group of horsemen. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +TOUCH AND GO +</H3> + + +<P> +The John DeWitt who helped break camp after finding Rhoda's scarf was a +different man from the half-crazed person of the three days previous. +He had begun to hope. Somehow that white scarf with Rhoda's perfume +clinging to it was a living thing to him, a living, pulsing promise +that Rhoda was helping him to find her. Now, while Jack and Billy were +feverishly eager, he was cool and clear-headed, leaving the leadership +to Billy still, yet doing more than his share of the work in preparing +for the hard night ahead of them. The horses were well watered, their +own canteens were filled and saturated and food so prepared that it +could be eaten from the saddle. +</P> + +<P> +"For," said Porter, "when we do hit the little girl's trail, starvation +or thirst or high hell ain't goin' to stop us!" +</P> + +<P> +It was mid-afternoon when they started down the mountainside. There +was no trail and going was painful but the men moved with the care of +desperation. Once in the cañon they moved slowly along the wall and +some two miles from where the scarf had been found, they discovered a +fault where climbing was possible. It was nearing sundown when they +reached a wide ledge where the way was easy. Porter led the way back +over this to the spot below which fluttered a white paper to mark the +place where the scarf had been found. The ledge deepened here to make +room for a tiny, bubbling spring. Giant boulders were scattered across +the rocky floor. +</P> + +<P> +The three men dismounted. The ledge gave no trace of human occupancy +and yet Porter and Jack nodded at each other. +</P> + +<P> +"Here was his camp, all right. Water, and no one could come within a +mile of him without his being seen." +</P> + +<P> +"He's still covering his traces carefully," said Jack. +</P> + +<P> +"Not so very," answered Porter. "He's banking a whole lot on our +stupidity, but Miss Tuttle beat him to it with her scarf." +</P> + +<P> +The three men treated the ledge to a microscopic examination but they +found no trace of previous occupation until Billy knelt and put his +nose against a black outcropping of stone in the wall. Then he gave a +satisfied grunt. +</P> + +<P> +"Come here, Jack, and take a sniff." +</P> + +<P> +Jack knelt obediently and cried excitedly: +</P> + +<P> +"It smells of smoke, by Jove! Don't it, John, old scout!" +</P> + +<P> +"They knew smoke wouldn't show against a black outcrop, but they didn't +bank on my nose!" said Billy complacently. "Come ahead, boys." +</P> + +<P> +A short distance from the spring they found a trail which led back up +the mountain, and as dusk came on they followed its dizzy turns until +darkness forced them to halt and wait until the moon rose. By its +light they moved up into a piñon forest. +</P> + +<P> +"Let's wait here until daylight," suggested Jack. "It's a good place +for a camp." +</P> + +<P> +"No, it's too near the ledge," objected Billy. "Of course we are +working on faith mostly. I'm no Sherlock Holmes. We'll keep to the +backbone of this range for a while. It's the wildest spot in New +Mexico. Kut-le will avoid the railroad over by the next range." +</P> + +<P> +So Billy led his little band steadfastly southward. At dawn they met a +Mexican shepherd herding his sheep in a grassy cañon. Jack Newman +called to him eagerly and the Mexican as eagerly answered. A visitor +was worth a month's pay to the lonely fellow. The red of dawn was +painting the fleecy backs of his charges as the tired Americans rode +into his little camp. +</P> + +<P> +"Seen anything of an Injun running away with a white girl?" asked Billy +without preliminaries. +</P> + +<P> +The Mexican's jaw dropped. +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Sacra Maria</I>!" he gasped. "Not I! Who is she?" +</P> + +<P> +"Listen!" broke in Jack. "You be on the watch. An educated Indian has +stolen a young lady who was visiting my wife. I own the Newman ranch. +That Indian Cartwell it was, three days ago." +</P> + +<P> +John DeWitt interrupted. +</P> + +<P> +"If you can catch that Indian, if you can give us a clue to him, you +needn't herd sheep any more. Lord, man, speak up! Don't stand there +like a chump!" +</P> + +<P> +"But, señors!" stammered the poor fellow to whom this sudden torrent of +conversation was as overwhelming as a cloudburst. "But I have not +seen—" +</P> + +<P> +Billy Porter spoke again. +</P> + +<P> +"Hold up, boys! We are scaring the poor devil to death. Friend +pastor," he said, "we'll have breakfast here with you, if you don't +object, and tell you our troubles." +</P> + +<P> +The shepherd glowed with hospitality. +</P> + +<P> +"Yonder is good water and I have tortillas and frijoles." +</P> + +<P> +Unshaven and dirty, gaunt from lack of sleep, the three men dismounted +wearily and gladly turned their coffee and bacon over to the herder to +whom the mere odor of either was worth any amount of service. As they +ate, Jack and Billy quizzed the Mexican as to the topography of the +surrounding country. The little herder was a canny chap. +</P> + +<P> +"He will not try to cover his trail carefully now," he said, swallowing +huge slabs of bacon. "He has a good start. You will have to fool him. +He sleeps by day and travels by night, you will see. You are working +too hard and your horses will be dead. You should have slept last +night. Now you will lose today because you must rest your horses." +</P> + +<P> +Porter looked at his two companions. Jack was doing fairly well, but +the calm that DeWitt had found with Rhoda's scarf had deserted him. He +was eating scarcely anything and stared impatiently at the fire, +waiting for the start. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm a blamed double-action jackass, with a peanut for a mind!" +exclaimed Porter. "Taking on myself to lead this hunt when I don't +<I>sabe</I> frijoles! We take a sleep now." +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt jumped to his feet, expostulating, but Jack and Billy laid a +hand on either of his shoulders and forced him to lie down on his +blanket. There nature claimed her own and in a short time the poor +fellow was in the slumber of exhaustion. +</P> + +<P> +"Poor old chap!" said Jack as he spread his own blanket. "I can't help +thinking all the time 'What if it were Katherine!' Dear old Rhoda! +Why, Billy, we used to play together as kids! She's slapped my face, +many a time!" +</P> + +<P> +"Probably you deserved it!" answered Billy in an uncertain voice. "By +the limping piper! I'm glad I ain't her financier. I'm most crazy, as +it is!" +</P> + +<P> +The sheep herder woke the sleepers at noon. After a bath at the +spring, and dinner, the trio felt as if reborn. They left the herder +with minute directions as to what he was to do in case he heard of +Rhoda. Then they rode out of the cañon into the burning desert. +</P> + +<P> +And now for several days they lost all clues. They beat up and down +the ranges like tired hunting-dogs, all their efforts fruitless. +Little by little, panic and excitement left them. Even DeWitt realized +that the hunt was to be a long and serious one as Porter told of the +fearful chases the Apaches had led the whites, time and again. He +began to realize that to keep alive in the terrible region through +which the hunt was set he must help the others to conserve their own +and his energies. To this end they ate and slept as regularly as they +could. +</P> + +<P> +Occasionally they met other parties of searchers, but this was only +when they beat to the eastward toward the ranch, for most of the +searchers were now convinced that Kut-le had made toward Mexico and +they were patrolling the border. But Billy insisted that Kut-le was +making for some eerie that he knew and would ensconce himself there for +months, if need be, till the search was given up. Then and then only +would he make for Mexico. And John DeWitt and Jack had come to agree +with Billy. +</P> + +<P> +"He'll keep her up in some haunt of his," said Jack, again and again, +"until he's worn her into consenting to marry him. And before that +happens, if I know old Rhoda, we'll find them." +</P> + +<P> +"He's mine when we do find him, remember that," John DeWitt always said +through his teeth at this point in the discussion. +</P> + +<P> +It was on the twelfth day of the hunt that the sheep-herder found them. +They were cinching up the packs after the noon rest when he rode up on +a burro. He was dust-coated and both he and the burro were panting. +</P> + +<P> +"I've seen her! I've seen the señorita!" he shouted as he clambered +stiffly from the burro. +</P> + +<P> +The three Americans stood rigid. +</P> + +<P> +"Where? How? When?" came from three heat-cracked mouths. +</P> + +<P> +The Mexican started to answer, but his throat was raw with alkali dust +and his voice was scarcely audible. DeWitt impatiently thrust a +canteen into the little fellow's hands. +</P> + +<P> +"Hurry, for heaven's sake!" he urged. +</P> + +<P> +The Mexican took a deep draught. +</P> + +<P> +"The night after you left I moved up into the peaks, intending to cross +the range to lower pastures next day. A big storm came up and I made +camp. Then an Indian in a blanket rode up to me and asked me if I was +alone. I <I>sabed</I> him at once. 'But yes, señor,'" I answered, "'except +for the sheep!'" +</P> + +<P> +"But Miss Tuttle! The señorita!" shouted DeWitt. +</P> + +<P> +The Mexican glanced at the tired blue eyes, the strained face, +pityingly. +</P> + +<P> +"She was well," he answered. "Be patient, señor. Then there rode up +another Indian, two squaws and what looked to be a young boy. The +Indian lifted the boy from the saddle so tenderly, señors. And it was +your señorita! She did not look strong, yet I think the Indian is +taking good care of her. They sat by the fire till the storm was over. +The señorita ignored Kut-le as if he had been a dog." +</P> + +<P> +Porter clinched his teeth at this, while Jack murmured with a gleam of +savage satisfaction in his eyes, "Old Rhoda!" But DeWitt only gnawed +his lip, with his blue eyes on the Mexican. +</P> + +<P> +"The Indian said I was to say nothing, but the señorita made him let me +tell about you after I said I had seen you. She—she cried with +happiness. They rode away in a little while but I followed as long as +I dared to leave my sheep. They were going north. I think they were +in the railroad range the night you were with me, then doubled back. I +left my sheep the next day with the salt-boy who came up. I tramped +twenty miles to the rancho and got a burro and left word about the +señorita. Then I started on your trail. Everyone I met I told. I +thought that my news was not worth much except that the señor there +would be glad to know that the Indian is tender to his señorita." +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt turned to Porter and Newman. +</P> + +<P> +"Friends, perhaps she is being taken care of!" he said. "Perhaps that +devil is trying to keep her health, at least. God! If nothing worse +has befallen her!" +</P> + +<P> +He stopped and drew his wrist across his forehead. Something like +tears shone in Jack's eyes, and Porter coughed. John turned to the +Mexican and grasped the little fellow's hand. +</P> + +<P> +"My boy," he said, "you'll never regret this day's work. If you have a +señorita you know what you have done for me!" +</P> + +<P> +The Mexican looked up into DeWitt's face seriously. +</P> + +<P> +"I have one. She has a dimple in her chin." +</P> + +<P> +John turned abruptly and stood staring into the desert while tears +seared his eyes. Billy hastily unpacked and gave Carlos and his burro +the best that the outfit afforded. +</P> + +<P> +"Can the salt-boy stay on with the sheep while you come with us?" asked +John DeWitt. "I'll pay your boss for the whole flock if anything goes +wrong." He wanted the keen wit of the herder on the hunt. +</P> + +<P> +The Mexican nodded eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll stay!" +</P> + +<P> +Shortly the four were riding northward across the desert. They were in +fairly good shape for a hard tide. Two days before, they had stopped +at Squaw Spring ranch and re-outfitted. With proper care of the horses +they were good for three weeks away from supplies. And for two weeks +now they scoured the desert, meeting scarcely a human, finding none of +the traces that Rhoda was so painfully dropping along her course. The +hugeness, the cruelty of the region drove the hopelessness of their +mission more and more deeply into DeWitt's brain. It seemed impossible +except by the merest chance to find trace of another human in a waste +so vast. It seemed to him that it was not skill but the gambler's +instinct for luck that guided Carlos and Billy. +</P> + +<P> +They rode through open desert country one afternoon, the only mountains +discernible being a far purple haze along the horizon. For hours the +little cavalcade had moved without speech. Then to the north, Porter +discerned a dot moving toward them. Gradually under their eager eyes +the dot grew into a man who staggered as he walked. When he observed +the horsemen coming toward him he sat down and waited. +</P> + +<P> +"Jim Provenso! By the limping Piper!" cried Billy. "Thought you was +in Silver City." +</P> + +<P> +Jim was beyond useless speech. He caught the canteen which Jack swung +to him and drank deeply. Then he said hoarsely: +</P> + +<P> +"I almost got away with the Tuttle girl last week!" +</P> + +<P> +Every man left his saddle as if at a word of command. Jim took another +drink. +</P> + +<P> +"If I catch that Injun alone I'll cut his throat!" +</P> + +<P> +"Was Miss Tuttle bad off?" gasped Porter. +</P> + +<P> +"She? Naw; she looked fine. He sassed me, though, as I won't take it +from any man!" +</P> + +<P> +"Tell us what happened, for heaven's sake," cried DeWitt, eying +Provenso disgustedly. +</P> + +<P> +Jim told his story in detail. +</P> + +<P> +"That Injun Alkus," he ended, "he tied a rag over my eyes, tied my +hands up and, say, he lost me for fair! He took all day to it. At +night he tied me up to a tree and I stood there all night before I got +my hands loose. I was sure lost, now, I can tell you! I struck a +cowman up on the range the next night. He give me some grub and a +canteen and I made out pretty good till yesterday, working south all +the time. Then I got crazy with thirst and threw my canteen away. +Found a spring last night again, but I'm about all in." +</P> + +<P> +"How did Miss Tuttle seem?" asked John with curious quietness. It +seemed to him the strangest thing of all that first the Mexican, then +this coarse, tramp-like fellow, should have talked to Rhoda while he +could only wander wildly through the Hades of the desert without a +trace of her camp to solace him. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, she was looking good! She thanked me and told me to tell you all +to hurry." +</P> + +<P> +They gave to Provenso a burro whose pack was nearly empty, what food +and water they could spare, and he left them. They started on +dejectedly. Provenso had told them where Kut-le had camped ten days +before. +</P> + +<P> +They could only find that spot and attempt to pick up the trail from +there. +</P> + +<P> +"Just the same," said Billy, "it's just as well he didn't get away with +Miss Rhoda. He's a tough pill, that Provenso. She'd better be with +the Injun than him!" +</P> + +<P> +"Provenso must be a bad lot," said Jack. +</P> + +<P> +"He is!" replied Billy grimly. +</P> + +<P> +The camp was made that night near a smooth-faced mesa. Before dawn +they had eaten breakfast and were mounting, when Carlos gave a low +whistle. Every ear was strained. On the exquisite stillness of the +dawn sounded a woman's voice which a man's voice answered. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER X +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A LONG TRAIL +</H3> + + +<P> +Rhoda gave a cry of joy. From the horsemen rose a sudden shout. +</P> + +<P> +"Spread! Spread! There they are!" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't shoot!" It was Porter's voice, shrill and high with excitement. +"That's her, the boy there! Rhoda! Rhoda! We're coming!" +</P> + +<P> +With a quick responsive cry, Rhoda struck her horse. With the blow, +Kut-le leaned from his own horse and seized her bridle, turning her +horse with his own away from the mesa and to the left. The other +Indians followed and with hoarse cries of exultation the rescuers took +up the pursuit. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda looked back. +</P> + +<P> +"Shoot!" she screamed. "Shoot!" +</P> + +<P> +Before the second scream had left her lips she was lifted bodily from +the saddle to Kut-le's arms where, understanding his device, she +struggled like a mad woman. But she only wasted her strength. Without +a glance at her, Kut-le turned his pony almost in its tracks and made +for the mesa. +</P> + +<P> +"Cut him off! He'll get away from us!" It was DeWitt's voice, and +"John! John DeWitt!" Rhoda cried. +</P> + +<P> +But the young Indian had gaged his distance well. He brought his horse +to its haunches and with Rhoda in his arms was running into a fissure +seemingly too narrow for human to enter, while the pursuers were still +a hundred yards away. +</P> + +<P> +"Hold 'em, Alchise!" he said briefly as he ran. +</P> + +<P> +Alchise, with rifle cocked, stopped by the opening. The fissure +widened immediately into a narrow passageway. High, high above them +rolled a strip of pink and blue morning sky. Before them was a +seemingly interminable crevice along which the squaws scuttled. As +Rhoda watched them they disappeared around a sudden curve. When Kut-le +reached this point with his burden, the squaws were climbing like +monkeys up the wall which here gave back, roughly, ending the fissure +in a rude chimney which it seemed to Rhoda only a bear or an Apache +could have climbed. Kut-le set Rhoda on her feet. She looked up into +his face mockingly. To her mind she was as good as rescued. But the +young Apache seemed in no wise hurried or excited. +</P> + +<P> +"Our old friends seem to want something!" he commented with his boyish +grin. +</P> + +<P> +"What are you going to do now?" asked Rhoda, with calm equal to the +Apache's. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't carry you up this wall," suggested Kut-le. +</P> + +<P> +"Very well!" returned Rhoda pleasantly. "I am quite willing that you +should leave me here." +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le's eyes glittered. +</P> + +<P> +"Rhoda, you must climb this wall with me!" +</P> + +<P> +"I won't!" replied Rhoda laconically. +</P> + +<P> +"Then I shall force you to," said the Indian, shifting his rifle and +prodding Rhoda ever so gently with the barrel. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda gave Kut-le a look of scorn that he was not soon to forget and +slowly mounted the first broken ledge. The wall was composed of a +series of jutting rocks and of ledges that barely offered hand or foot +hold. Up and up and up! Kut-le was now beside her, now above her, now +lifting, now pulling. Half-way to the top, Rhoda stopped, dizzy and +afraid. Kneeling on the ledge above, with one hand thrust down to lift +her, Kut-le looked into her eyes almost pleadingly. That handsome face +so close to hers affected Rhoda strangely. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't be afraid," whispered Kut-le. "Nothing can happen to you while +I am taking care of you." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda looked into his eyes proudly. +</P> + +<P> +"I am not afraid," she said, reaching for a fresh handhold with +trembling fingers. +</P> + +<P> +The jutting rocks were sharp. Kut-le from his ledge saw Rhoda look at +her hold then turn white. Her nails were torn to the quick and +bleeding. She swayed with only an atom of gravity lacking to send her +to death below. Instantly Kut-le was back beside her, his sinewy hand +between her shoulders, supporting and lifting her to the ledge above. +As they neared the top the broken surface became prickly with cactus +and Rhoda winced with misery as the thorns pierced and tore her flesh. +But finally, in what actually had been an incredibly short time, they +emerged on the plateau, where the two squaws huddled high above the +pursuers. +</P> + +<P> +"They think they have you now!" said Kut-le, as Rhoda dropped panting +to the ground. "We must move out of here before they investigate the +mesa top." +</P> + +<P> +He allowed, however, a few minutes' breathing spell for Rhoda. She sat +quietly, though her gray eyes were brilliant with excitement. It +seemed to her but a matter of a few hours now when she would be with +her own. Yet she could not but notice with that curious observance of +detail which comes at moments of intensest excitement the varied colors +of the distances that opened before her. The great mesa on which she +sat was a mighty peninsula of chalcedony that stretched into the +desert. It was patched by rocks of lavender, of yellow, and of green, +and belled over by the intensity of the morning blue above. +</P> + +<P> +"Come!" said Kut-le. "There will be little rest for us today." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda rose, took a few staggering steps, then sat down. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't start yet," she said. "I'm too worn out." +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le's expression was amused while it was impatient. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose you may be sleepy, but I think you can walk a little way. +Hurry, Rhoda! Hurry!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda sat staring calmly into the palpitating blue above. +</P> + +<P> +"I hate to have you carry me," she said after a moment, "but I don't +feel at all like walking!" +</P> + +<P> +Her tired face was irresistibly lovely as she looked up at the Apache, +but by an effort he remained obdurate. +</P> + +<P> +"You must walk as long as you can," he insisted. "We have got to +hustle today!" +</P> + +<P> +"I really don't feel like hustling!" sighed Rhoda. +</P> + +<P> +"Rhoda!" cried Kut-le impatiently, "get up and walk after me! Cesca, +see that the white squaw keeps moving!" and he handed his rifle to the +brown hag who took it with evident pleasure. Molly ran forward as if +to protest but at a look from Kut-le she dropped back. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda rose slowly, with her lower lip caught between her teeth. She +followed silently after Kut-le, Cesca and the rifle at her shoulder and +Molly in the rear. It seemed to the girl that of all the strange +scenes through which the past weeks had carried her this was of all the +most unreal. All about her was a world of vivid rock heaps so +intensely colored that she doubted her vision. Away to the south lay +the boundless floor of the desert, a purple and gold infinity that +rolled into the horizon. Far to the north mountains were faintly blue +in the yellow sunlight. +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le headed straight for the mountains. His pace was swift and +unrelenting. Almost immediately Rhoda felt the debilitating effects of +overheat. The sun, now sailing high, burned through her flannel shirt +until her flesh was blistered beneath it. The light on the brilliantly +colored rocks made her eyes blink with pain. Before long she was +parched with thirst and faint with hunger. This was her first +experience in tramping for any distance under the desert sun. But +Kut-le kept the pace long after the two squaws were half leading, half +carrying the girl. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda had long since learned the uselessness of protesting. She kept +on until the way danced in reeling colors before her eyes. Then +without a sound she dropped in the scant shadow of a rock. At the cry +from Molly, Kut-le turned, and after one glance at Rhoda's white face +and limp figure he knelt in the sand and lifted the drooping, yellow +head. Molly unslung her canteen and forced a few drops of water +between Rhoda's lips. Then she tenderly chafed the small hands and the +delicate throat and Rhoda opened her eyes. Immediately Kut-le lifted +her in his arms and the flight was resumed. +</P> + +<P> +At short intervals during the morning, Rhoda walked, but for the most +part Kut-le packed her as dispassionately as if she had been a lame +puppy. He held her across his broad chest as if her fragile weight +were nothing. Lying so, Rhoda watched the merciless landscape or the +brown squaws jogging at Kut-le's heels. Surely, she thought, the +ancient mesa never had seen a stranger procession or known of a wilder +mission. She looked up into Kut-le's face and wondered as she stared +at his bare head how his eyes could look so steadily into the +sun-drenched landscape. +</P> + +<P> +As she lay, the elation of the early morning left her. More and more +surely the conviction came to her that the Apache's boast was true; +that no white could catch him on his own ground. Dizzy and ill from +the heat, she closed her eyes and lay without hope or coherent thought. +</P> + +<P> +At noon they stopped for a short time that Rhoda might eat. Their +resting-place was in the shadow of a beetling, weather-beaten rock that +still bore traces of hieroglyphic carvings. There were broken bits of +clay pots among the tufts of cactus. Rhoda stared at them languidly +and wondered what the forgotten vessels could have contained in a +region so barren of life or hope. +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le strolled over to a cat's-claw bush at whose base lay a tangle of +dead leaves. With a bit of stick, he scattered this litter, struck the +ground several good blows and returned with a string of fat desert +mice. With infinite care Cesca kindled a fire so tiny, so clear, that +scarcely a wisp of smoke escaped into the quivering air. Into this she +flung the eviscerated mice and in an instant the tiny things were a +delicate brown. The aroma was pleasant but Rhoda turned whiter still +when Molly brought her the fattest of the mice. +</P> + +<P> +"Take it away!" she whispered. "Take it away!" +</P> + +<P> +Molly looked at the girl in stupid surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"You must eat, Rhoda girl!" said Kut-le. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda made no reply but leaned limply against the ancient rock, her +golden hair touching the crude drawings of long ago. She was a very +different Rhoda from the eager girl of the early morning. She ignored +every effort Kut-le made to tempt her to eat. Her tired gaze wandered +to her hands, still blood-grimed, and her cleft chin quivered. Kut-le +saw the expressive little look. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry," he said simply. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda looked up at him. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't believe you," she returned calmly. +</P> + +<P> +The Indian's jaw stiffened. +</P> + +<P> +"Come, we'll start now." +</P> + +<P> +The afternoon was like the morning, except that the sun was more +burning overhead, the way more scorching underfoot; except that the +course became more broken, the clambering heavier, the drops more +wracking. All the afternoon, Kut-le carried Rhoda. At last the sun +sank below the mesa and the day was ended. +</P> + +<P> +The place of their camping seemed to Rhoda damp and cold. It was close +beside a spring that gave out a faint, miasmic odor. The bitter water +was grateful, however. Again more mice were seered over before the +fire was stamped out hastily. This time Rhoda forced herself to eat. +Then she drank deeply of the bitter water and lay down on the cold +ground. Despite the fact that she was shivering with the cold, she +fell asleep at once. Toward midnight she awoke and moving close to +Molly's broad back for warmth, she looked up into the sky. For the +first time the great southern stars seemed near and kindly to her and +before she fell asleep again she wondered why. +</P> + +<P> +At earliest peep of dawn the squaws were astir waiting for Kut-le, who +shortly staggered into camp with a load of meat on his shoulder. +Alchise was with him. +</P> + +<P> +"Mule meat!" said Kut-le to Rhoda. "I went to find horses but there +was nothing but an old lame mule, I brought him back this way!" +</P> + +<P> +"Heavens!" ejaculated Rhoda. +</P> + +<P> +The squaws worked busily, cutting the meat into strips which they hung +over their shoulders to sun dry during the day. Alchise cleansed a +length of mule's intestine in the spring, to serve as a canteen. Rhoda +gave small heed to these preparations. She was too ill and feverish +even to be disgusted by them. She refused to eat but drank constantly +from the spring. When at Kut-le's command she took up the march with +the others the young man eyed her anxiously. He slung Molly's canteen +from his own to Alchise's shoulder and felt Rhoda's pulse. +</P> + +<P> +"This water was bad for you," he said. "But it was the only spring +within miles. Perhaps you will throw off the effects of it when we get +into the heat of the sun." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda made no reply but staggered miserably after Molly. The spring +lay in a pocket between mountains and mesa. The mountains seemed +cruelly high to Rhoda as she looked at them and thought of toiling +across them. With head sunk on her breast and feverishly twitching +hands she followed for half an hour. Then Kut-le turned. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to carry you, Rhoda," he said. +</P> + +<P> +The girl shrank away from him. +</P> + +<P> +"You and Molly and all of them think I'm just a parasite," she +muttered. "You don't have to do anything for me! Just let me drop +anywhere and die!" +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le looked at her strangely. Without comment, he picked her up. +There was a sternly tender look on his face that never had been there +before. He did not carry her dispassionately today, but very gently. +Something in his manner pierced through Rhoda's half delirium and she +looked up at him with a faint replica of her old lovely smile that +Kut-le had not seen since he had stolen her. He trembled at its beauty +and started forward at a tremendous pace. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll get you to good water by noon," he said. +</P> + +<P> +At noon they were well up in the mountains by a clear spring fringed +with aspens. Watercress grew below it, and high above it were pines +and junipers. It was a spot of surpassing loveliness, but Rhoda, +tossing and panting, could not know it, Kut-le laid his burden on the +ground and Molly drew off her tattered petticoat to lay beneath the +feverish head. The young Apache stood looking down at the little +figure, so graceful in its boyish abandonment of gesture, so pitiful in +its broken unconsciousness. Molly bathed the burning face and hands in +the pure cold water, muttering tender Apache phrases. Kut-le +constantly interrupted her to change the girl's position. For an hour +or so he waited for the fever to turn. By three o'clock there was no +change for the better and he left Rhoda's side to pace back and forth +by the spring in anxious thought. +</P> + +<P> +At last he came to a conclusion and with stern set face he issued a few +short orders to his companions. The canteens were refilled. Kut-le +lifted Rhoda and the trail was taken to the west. Alchise would have +relieved him of his burden, willingly, but Kut-le would not listen to +it. Molly trotted anxiously by the young Apache's side, constantly +moistening the girl's lips with water. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda was quite delirious now. She murmured and sometimes sobbed, +trying to free herself from Kut-le's arms. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not sick!" she said, looking up into the Indian's face with +unseeing eyes. "Don't let him see that I am sick!" +</P> + +<P> +"No! No! Dear one!" answered Kut-le. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't let him see I'm sick!" she sobbed. "He hurts me so!" +</P> + +<P> +"No! No!" exclaimed Kut-le huskily. "Molly, give her a little more +water!" +</P> + +<P> +"Molly!" panted Rhoda, "you tell him how hard I worked—how I earned my +way a little! And don't let him do anything for me!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE TURN IN THE TRAIL +</H3> + + +<P> +The little group, trudging the long difficult trail along the mountain +was a rich study in degrees: Rhoda, the fragile Caucasian, a product of +centuries of civilization; and Kut-le, the Indian, with the keenness, +the ferocious courage, the cunning of the Indian leavened inextricably +with the thousand softening influences of a score of years' contact +with civilization; then Cesca, the lean and stoical product of an +ancient and terrible savagery; and Alchise, her mate. Finally +Molly—squat, dirty Molly—the stupid, squalid aborigine, as distinct +from Cesca's type as is the brown snail from the stinging wasp. +</P> + +<P> +Alchise, striding after his chief, was smitten with a sudden idea. +After ruminating on it for some time, he communicated it to his squaw. +Cesca shook her head with a grunt of disapproval. Alchise insisted and +the squaw looked at Kut-le cunningly. +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Quién sabe</I>?" she said at last. +</P> + +<P> +At this Alchise hurried forward and touched Kut-le on the shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"Take 'em squaw to Reservation. Medicine dance. Squaw heap sick. +<I>Sabe</I>?" +</P> + +<P> +"Reservation's too far away," replied Kut-le, shifting Rhoda's head to +lie more easily on his arm. "I'm making for Chira." +</P> + +<P> +Alchise shook his head vigorously. +</P> + +<P> +"Too many mens! We go Reservation. Alchise help carry sick squaw." +</P> + +<P> +"Nope! You're way off, Alchise. I'm going where I can get some white +man's medicine the quickest. I'm not so afraid of getting caught as I +am of her getting a bad run of fever. I have friends at Chira." +</P> + +<P> +Alchise fell back, muttering disappointment. White man's medicine was +no good. He cared little about Rhoda but he adored Kut-le. It was +necessary therefore that the white squaw be saved, since his chief +evidently was quite mad about her. All the rest of the day Alchise was +very thoughtful. Late at night the next halt was made. High up in the +mountain on a sheltered ledge Kut-le laid down his burden. +</P> + +<P> +"Keep her quiet till I get back," he said, and disappeared. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda was in a stupor and lay quietly unconscious with the stars +blinking down on her, a limp dark heap against the mountain wall. The +three Indians munched mule meat, then Molly curled herself on the +ground and in three minutes was snoring. Alchise stood erect and still +on the ledge for perhaps ten minutes after Kut-le's departure. Then he +touched Cesca on the shoulder, lifted Rhoda in his arms and, followed +by Cesca, left the sleeping Molly alone on the ledge. +</P> + +<P> +Swiftly, silently, Alchise strode up the mountainside, Rhoda making +neither sound nor motion. For hours, with wonderful endurance the two +Indians held the pace. They moved up the mountain to the summit, which +they crossed, then dropped rapidly downward. Just at dawn Alchise +stopped at a gray <I>campos</I> under some pines and called. A voice from +the hut answered him. The canvas flap was put back and an old Indian +buck appeared, followed by several squaws and young bucks, yawning and +staring. +</P> + +<P> +Alchise laid Rhoda on the ground while he spoke rapidly to the Indian. +The old man protested at first but on the repeated use of Kut-le's name +he finally nodded and Alchise carried Rhoda into the <I>campos</I>. A squaw +kindled a fire which, blazing up brightly, showed a huge, dark room, +canvas-roofed and dirt-floored, quite bare except for the soiled +blankets on the floor. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda was laid in the center of the hut. The old buck knelt beside +her. He was very old indeed. His time-ravaged features were lean and +ascetic. His clay-matted hair was streaked with white; his black eyes +were deep-sunk and his temples were hollow. But there was a fine sort +of dignity about the old medicine-man, despite his squalor. He gazed +on Rhoda in silence for some time. Alchise and Cesca sat on the floor, +and little by little they were joined by a dozen other Indians who +formed a circle about the girl. The firelight flickered on the dark, +intent faces and on Rhoda's delicate beauty as she lay passing rapidly +from stupor to delirium. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly the old man raised his lean hand, shaking a gourd filled with +pebbles, and began softly to chant. Instantly the other Indians joined +him and the <I>campos</I> was filled with the rhythm of a weird song. Rhoda +tossed her arms and began to cough a little from the smoke. The chant +quickened. It was but the mechanical repetition of two notes falling +always from high to low. Yet it had an indescribable effect of +melancholy, this aboriginal song. It was as hopeless and melancholy as +all of nature's chants: the wail of the wind, the sob of the rain, the +beat of the waves. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda sat erect, her eyes wild and wide. The old buck, without ceasing +his song, attempted to thrust her back with one lean brown claw, but +Rhoda struck him feebly. +</P> + +<P> +"Go away!" she cried. "Be quiet! You hurt my head! Don't make that +dreadful noise!" +</P> + +<P> +The chant quickened. The medicine-man now rocked back and forth on his +knees, accenting the throb of the song by beating his bare feet on the +earth. He seemed by some strange suppleness to flatten his instep +paddle-wise and to bring the entire leg from toe to knee at one blow +against the ground. Never did his glowing old eyes leave Rhoda's face. +</P> + +<P> +The girl, thrown into misery and excitement by the insistence of the +chant, began to wring her hands. The words said nothing to her but the +rhythmic repetition of the notes told her a story as old as life +itself: that life passes swifter than a weaver's shuttle, and without +hope; that our days are as grass and as the clouds that are consumed +and are no more; that the soul sinks to the land of darkness and of the +shadow of death. Rhoda struggled, with horror in her eyes, to rise; +but the old man with a hand on her shoulder forced her back on the +blanket. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, what is it!" wailed Rhoda, clutching at the mass of yellow-brown +hair about her face. "Where am I? What are you doing? Have I died? +Where is Kut-le? Kut-le!" she screamed. "Kut-le!" +</P> + +<P> +The medicine-man held her to the blanket and for a time she sat +quiescent. Then as the Indian lifted his hand from her shoulder the +bewilderment of her gray eyes changed to the wildness of delirium. She +looked toward the doorway where the dawn light made but little headway +against the dark interior. With one blue-veined hand on her panting +breast she slowly, stealthily gathered herself together, and with +unbelievable swiftness she sprang for the square of dawn light. She +leaped almost into the arms of a young buck who sat near the door. He +bore her back to her place while the chant continued without +interruption. +</P> + +<P> +Exhausted, Rhoda lay listening to the song. Gradually it began to +exert its hypnotic influence over her. Its sense of melancholy +enveloped her drug-like. She lay prone, the tears coursing down her +cheeks, her twitching hands turned upward beside her. Slowly she +floated outward upon a dark sea whose waves beat a ceaseless requiem of +anguish on her ears. It seemed to her that she was enduring all the +sorrows of the ages; that she was brain-tortured by the death agonies +of all humanity; that all the uselessness, all the meaninglessness, all +the utter weariness of the death-ridden world pressed upon her, +suffocating her, forcing her to stillness, slowing the beating of her +heart, the intake of her breath. Slowly her white lids closed, yet +with one last conscious cry for life: +</P> + +<P> +"Kut-le!" she wailed. "Kut-le!" +</P> + +<P> +A quick shadow filled the doorway. +</P> + +<P> +"Here, Rhoda! Here!" +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le bounded into the room, upsetting the medicine-man, and lifted +Rhoda in his arms. She clung to him wildly. +</P> + +<P> +"Take me away, Kut-le! Take me away!" +</P> + +<P> +He soothed her with great tenderness. +</P> + +<P> +"Dear one!" he murmured. "Dear one!" and she closed her eyes quietly. +</P> + +<P> +During this time the Indians sat silent and watchful. Kut-le turned to +Alchise. +</P> + +<P> +"You cursed fool!" he said. +</P> + +<P> +"She get well now," replied Alchise anxiously. "Alchise save her for +you. Molly tell you where come." +</P> + +<P> +For a moment Kut-le stared at Alchise; then, as if realizing the +futility of speech, "Come!" he said, and ignoring the other Indians, he +strode from the <I>campos</I>. Alchise and Cesca followed him, and outside +the anxious Molly seized Rhoda's limp hand with a little cry of joy. +Kut-le led the way to a quiet spot among the pines. Here he laid Rhoda +on a sheepskin and covered her with a tattered blanket, the spoils of +his previous night's trip. +</P> + +<P> +About the middle of the morning Rhoda opened her eyes. As she stirred, +Kut-le came to her. +</P> + +<P> +"I've had such horrible dreams, Kut-le. You won't go and leave me to +the Indians again?" +</P> + +<P> +This appeal from Rhoda in her weakness almost overcame Kut-le but he +only smoothed her tangled hair and answered: +</P> + +<P> +"No, dear one!" +</P> + +<P> +"Where are we now?" she asked feebly. +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"In the Rockies." +</P> + +<P> +"I think I am very sick," continued Rhoda. "Do you think we can stay +quiet in one place today?" +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"I am going to get you to some quinine as quick as I can. There is +some about twenty-four hours from here." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda's eyes widened. +</P> + +<P> +"Shall I be with white people?" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't bother. You'll have good care." +</P> + +<P> +The light faded from Rhoda's eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"It's hard for me, isn't it?" she said, as if appealing to the college +man of the ranch. +</P> + +<P> +"Rhoda! Rhoda!" whispered Kut-le, "your suffering kills me! But I +must have you, I must!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda moved her head impatiently, as if the Indian's tense, handsome +face annoyed her. She refused food but drank deeply of the tepid water +and shortly they were again on the trail. +</P> + +<P> +For several hours Rhoda lay in Kut-le's arms, weak and ill but with +lucid mind. They were making their way up a long cañon. It was very +narrow. Rhoda could see the individual leaves of the aspens on the +opposite wall as they moved close in the shadow of the other. The +floor, watered by a clear brook, was level and green. On either side +the walls were murmurous with delicately quivering aspens and sighing +pines. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly Cesca gave a grunt of warning. Far down the valley a +sheep-herder was approaching with his flocks. Kut-le turned to the +right and Alchise sprang to his aid. In the shelter of the trees, +Kut-le twisted a handkerchief across Rhoda's mouth; and in reply to her +outraged eyes, he said: +</P> + +<P> +"I don't mind single visitors as a rule but I haven't time to fuss with +one now." +</P> + +<P> +Together the two men carried Rhoda up the cañon-side. They lifted her +from trunk to trunk, now a root-hold, now a jutting bit of rock, till +far up the sheer wall. Rhoda lay at last on a little ledge heaped with +pine-needles. By the time the Indians were settled on the rock Rhoda +was delirious again. The fever had returned twofold and Molly's entire +efforts were toward keeping the tossing form on the ledge. +</P> + +<P> +Slowly, very slowly, the herder, a sturdy ragged Mexican, moved up the +cañon, pausing now and again to scratch his head. He was whistling <I>La +Paloma</I>. The Indians' black eyes did not leave him and after his +flute-like notes had melted into the distance they still crouched in +cramped stillness on the ledge. +</P> + +<P> +But shortly Kut-le freed Rhoda's mouth, gave Alchise a swift look, and +with infinite care the descent was begun. Kut-le did not like +traveling in the daylight, for many reasons. Carefully, swiftly they +moved up the cañon, always hugging the wall. Late in the afternoon +they emerged on an open mesa. All the wretched day Rhoda had traveled +in a fearsome world of her own, peopled with uncanny figures, alight +with a glare that seared her eyes, held in a vice that gripped her +until she screamed with restless pain. The song that the shepherd had +whistled tortured her tired brain. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"The day that I left my home for the rolling sea,<BR> +I said, 'Mother dear, O pray to thy God for me!'<BR> +But e'er we set sail I went a fond leave to take—" +</P> + +<P> +Over and over she sang the three lines, ending each time with a +frightened stare up into Kut-le's face. +</P> + +<P> +"Whom did I say good-by to? Whom? But they don't care!" +</P> + +<P> +Then again the tired voice: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"The day that I left my home for the rolling sea—" +</P> + +<P> +Night came and the weary, weary crossing of a craggy, heavily wooded +mountain. Kut-le did not relinquish his burden. He seemed not to tire +of the weight of the slender body that lay now in helpless stupor. If +the squaws or Alchise felt fatigue or impatience as Kut-le held them to +a pace on the tortuous trail that would nearly have exhausted a +Caucasian athlete, they gave no sign. All the endless night Kut-le led +the way under the midnight blackness of the piñon or the violet light +of the stars, until the lifting light of the dawn found them across the +ranges and standing at the edge of a little river. +</P> + +<P> +In the dim light there lifted a terraced adobe building with ladders +faintly outlined on the terraces. There was no sound save the barking +of a dog and the ripple of the river. With a muttered admonition, +Kut-le left Rhoda to the others and climbed one of the ladders. He +returned with a blanketed figure that gazed on Rhoda non-committally. +At a sign, Kut-le lifted Rhoda, and the little group moved noiselessly +toward the dwelling, clambered up a ladder, and disappeared. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda opened her eyes with a sense of physical comfort that confused +her. She was lying on the floor of a long, gray-walled room. In one +corner was a tiny adobe fire-place from which a tinier fire threw a jet +of flame color on the Navajo that lay before the hearth. Along the +walls were benches with splendid Navajos rolled cushion-wise upon them. +Above the benches hung several rifles with cougarskin quivers beneath +them. A couple of cheap framed mirrors were hung with silver necklaces +of beautiful workmanship. In a corner a table was set with heavy but +shining china dishes. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda stared with increasing wonder. She was very weak and spent but +her head was clear. She lifted her arms and looked at them. She was +wearing a loose-fitting gray garment of a strange weave. She fingered +it, more and more puzzled. +</P> + +<P> +"You wake now?" asked a low voice. +</P> + +<P> +Coming softly down the room was an Indian woman of comely face and +strange garb. Over a soft shirt of cut and weave such as Rhoda had on, +she wore a dark overdress caught at one shoulder and reaching only to +the knees. A many-colored girdle confined the dress at the waist. Her +legs and feet were covered with high, loose moccasins. Her black hair +hung free on her shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"You been much sick," the woman went on, "much sick," stooping to +straighten Rhoda's blanket. +</P> + +<P> +"Where am I?" asked Rhoda. +</P> + +<P> +"At Chira. You eat breakfast?" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda caught the woman's hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Who are you?" she asked. "You have been very good to me." +</P> + +<P> +"Me Marie," replied the woman. +</P> + +<P> +"Where are Kut-le and the others?" +</P> + +<P> +"Kut-le here. Others in mountain. You much sick, three days." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda sighed. Would this kaleidoscope of misery never end! +</P> + +<P> +"I am very tired of it all," she said. "I think it would have been +kinder if you had let me die. Will you help me to get back to my white +friends?" +</P> + +<P> +Marie shook her head. +</P> + +<P> +"Kut-le friend. We take care Kut-le's squaw." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda turned wearily on her side. +</P> + +<P> +"Go away and let me sleep," she said. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE CROSSING TRAILS +</H3> + + +<P> +As Kut-le, with Rhoda in his arms, disappeared into the mesa fissure, +John DeWitt threw himself from his horse and was at the opening before +the others had more than brought their horses to their haunches. +</P> + +<P> +He was met by Alchise's rifle, with Alchise entirely hidden from view. +For a moment the four men stood panting and speechless. The encounter +had been so sudden, so swift that they could not believe their senses. +Then Billy Porter uttered an oath that reverberated from the rocky wall. +</P> + +<P> +"They will get to the top!" he cried. "Jack, you and DeWitt get up +there! Carlos and I will hold this!" +</P> + +<P> +The two men mounted immediately and galloped along the mesa wall, +looking for an ascent. Neither of them spoke but both were breathing +hard, and through his blistered skin DeWitt's cheeks glowed feverishly. +For a mile up and down from the fissure the wall was a blank, except +for a single wide split which did not come within fifty feet of the +ground. After over half an hour of frantic search, DeWitt found, +nearly three miles from the fissure, a rough spot where the wall gave +back in a few narrow crumbling ledges. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll have to leave the horses," he said, "and try that." +</P> + +<P> +Jack nodded tensely. They dismounted, pulled the reins over the +horses' heads and started up the wall, John leading, carefully. One +bitter lesson the desert was teaching him: haste in the hot country +spells ruin! So, though Rhoda's voice still rang in his ears, though +the sight of the slender boyish figure struggling in Kut-le's arms +still ravished his eyes, he worked carefully. +</P> + +<P> +The ascent was all but impossible. The few jutting ledges were so +narrow that foothold was precarious, so far apart that only the slight +backward slant of the wall made it possible for them to flatten their +bodies against the crumbling brown rock and thus keep from falling. +They toiled desperately, silently. After an hour of utmost effort, +they reached the top, and with an exclamation of exultation started in +the direction of the fissure. But their exultation was short-lived. +The great split that stopped fifty feet from the desert floor cut them +off from the main mesa. They ran hastily along its edge but at no +point was it to be crossed. Shortly DeWitt left Jack to follow it back +and he hastened to the mesa front where he made a perilous descent and +returned with the horses to Porter. +</P> + +<P> +That gentleman forced John to eat some breakfast while Carlos rode +hastily to scour the mesa front to the west. Porter and the Mexican +had captured two of the horses and the burro that the Indians had left. +The other horses had run out into the desert back to the last spring +they had camped at, Porter said. To DeWitt's great disappointment, the +horses carried only blankets, and the burro was loaded with bacon and +flour. There were none of Rhoda's personal belongings. The animals +were in good condition, however, and the men annexed them to their +outfit gladly. +</P> + +<P> +John was torn betwixt hope and bitter disappointment. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you think they could climb out of the fissure?" he asked half a +dozen times, then without waiting for an answer, "Did you see her face, +Billy? I had just a glimpse! Didn't she look well! Just that one +glance has put new life in me! I know we will get her! Even this +cursed desert isn't wide enough to keep me from her! God help that +Indian when I get him!" +</P> + +<P> +Porter kept his eyes on Alchise's rifle which had never wavered in the +past three hours. +</P> + +<P> +"I've a notion to shoot the barrel off that thing just for luck!" he +growled. "John, sit down! You will need all the strength you've got +and then some before you catch that Injun!" +</P> + +<P> +"What are you going to do?" asked John, seating himself in the sand +some few feet from the fissure. +</P> + +<P> +"The big probability is," said Billy, "that they are in the crack. It +would be just about impossible for a girl to climb out of one of 'em. +If they have got out, though, it's just a matter of finding their trail +again. We'll have 'em! It's just this chance crack that saved 'em. +If you're rested, ride along the west wall and try for the top again." +</P> + +<P> +For the next five hours, Porter guarded the mesa front alone. It was +nearing six o'clock when Jack returned, exhausted and disappointed. He +had followed the great split back until the mesa top became so cut and +striated with mighty fissures that progress was impossible. +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't it the devil's own luck," he growled to Porter as he ate, "that +we should have let him get into that one crack! What next! Unless +they are still in there, we've lost them and are just losing time +squatting here." +</P> + +<P> +As he spoke, there was a sound of voices in the fissure. The two men +cocked their rifles as John and Carlos emerged from the opening. John +was scowling and breathless. +</P> + +<P> +"Lost 'em as usual, by our infernal stupidity," he panted, while Carlos +dropped his empty canteen and lifted Porter's to his lips. "I rode +round to the south of the mesa. There are a couple of possible ascents +there. I found Carlos making one. We followed a dozen fissures before +we located this one. We got into it about a mile back from here. +Here's a basket we found at the bottom in a burlap bag." +</P> + +<P> +He tossed one of Cesca's pitch baskets at Billy, then threw himself in +the sand. +</P> + +<P> +"They were down off the mesa, I bet," he went on, "before we fools +found the way up, and it was easy for the chap they left guarding the +entrance to avoid us. The mesa is covered with big rocks." +</P> + +<P> +"He got away within the last half-hour then," said Billy, "for I didn't +stir from this spot until the burro started to eat the grub pack, and I +naturally had to wrestle with him. And no human being could a got out +the front even then." +</P> + +<P> +"God! What a country!" groaned DeWitt. "The Indians outwit us at +every step!" +</P> + +<P> +"Well," Jack answered dejectedly, "tell us what we could have done +differently." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not blaming any one," replied John. +</P> + +<P> +Billy Porter rose briskly. +</P> + +<P> +"You boys quit your kicking. The scent is still warm. You fellows get +a couple of hours' sleep while I take the horses back to Coyote Hole +for water. By daylight we got to be on the south side of the mesa to +pick up the trail." +</P> + +<P> +Billy's businesslike manner heartened Jack and John DeWitt. They +turned in beside Carlos, who already was sleeping. +</P> + +<P> +Dawn found them examining the ascents on the south side of the mesa but +they found no traces and as the sun came well up they followed the only +possible way toward the mountains. At noon they found a low spring in +a pocket between mesa and mountain. Kut-le was growing either defiant +or careless, for he had left a heap of ashes and a pile of half-eaten +desert mice. Very much cheered they allowed the horses a fair rest. +They found no further traces of camp or trail that day and made camp +that night in the open desert. +</P> + +<P> +At dawn they were crossing a heavily wooded mountain. The sun had not +yet risen when they heard a sound of singing. +</P> + +<P> +"What's that?" asked DeWitt sharply, as the four pulled up their horses. +</P> + +<P> +"A medicine cry," answered Jack. "We must be near some medicine-man's +<I>campos</I>." +</P> + +<P> +"Come on," cried DeWitt, "we'll quiz them!" +</P> + +<P> +"Hold up, you chump!" exclaimed Billy. "If you rush in on a cry that +way you are apt not to come back again. You've got to go at 'em +careful. Let me do the talking." +</P> + +<P> +They rode toward the sound of the chant and shortly a dingy <I>campos</I> +came into view. An Indian buck made his way from the doorway toward +them. +</P> + +<P> +"Who is sick, friend?" asked Billy. +</P> + +<P> +"Old buck," said the Indian. +</P> + +<P> +"Apache?" said Billy. +</P> + +<P> +The Indian nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"You <I>sabe</I> Apache named Kut-le?" +</P> + +<P> +The buck shook his head, but Billy went on patiently. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, you <I>sabe</I> him. He old Ke-say's son. Apache chief's son. He +run off with white squaw. We want squaw, we no hurt him. Squaw sick, +no good for Injun. You tell, have money." Billy displayed a silver +dollar. +</P> + +<P> +The Indian brightened. +</P> + +<P> +"Long time 'go, some Injun say he <I>sabe</I> Kut-le. Some Injun say he all +same white man. Some Injun say he heap smart." He looked at Billy +inquiringly, and Billy nodded approval. DeWitt swallowed nervously. +"Come two, three day 'go," the buck went on, his eyes on the silver +dollar, "big Injun, carry white squaw, go by here very fast. He go +that way all heap fast." The buck pointed south. +</P> + +<P> +"Did he speak to you? What did he say?" cried DeWitt. +</P> + +<P> +But the Indian lapsed into silence and refused to speak more. Porter +felt well rewarded for his efforts and tossed the dollar to the Indian. +</P> + +<P> +"Gee!" said Billy, as they started elated down the mountain. "I wish +we could overtake him before he outfits again. That poverty-stricken +lot couldn't have had any horses here for him to use. I'll bet he +makes for the nearest ranch where he could steal a good bunch. That +would be at Kelly's, sixty miles south of here. We'll hike for +Kelly's!" +</P> + +<P> +This idea did not meet with enthusiastic approval from the other three +but as no one had a better suggestion to make, the trail to Kelly's was +taken. It seemed to John Dewitt that Billy relied little on science +and much on intuition in trailing the Indians. At first, considering +Porter's early boasts about his skill, DeWitt was much disappointed by +the old-timer's haphazard methods. But after a few weeks' testing of +the terrible hardships of the desert, after a few demonstrations of the +Apache's cleverness, John had concluded that intuition was the most +reliable weapon that the whites could hope to discover with which to +offset the Indian's appalling skill and knowledge. +</P> + +<P> +It was an exhausted quartet with its string of horses that drew up at +Kelly's dusty corral. Dick Kelly, a stocky Irishman, greeted the +strangers pleasantly. When, however, he learned their names he rose to +the occasion as only an Irishman can. +</P> + +<P> +"You gentlemen are at the end of your rope, wid the end frayed at +that!" he said. "Now come in for a few hours' rest and the Chinaman +will cook you the best meal he knows how." +</P> + +<P> +"Lord, no!" cried Billy. "We're so close on the track now that we can +hang on to the end. If you've had no trace here we'll just double back +and start from the mountains again!" +</P> + +<P> +By this time a dozen cowboys and ranch hands were gathered about the +newcomers. Every one knew about Rhoda's disappearance. Every one knew +about every man in the little search party. In the flicker of the +lanterns the men looked pityingly at DeWitt's haggard face. +</P> + +<P> +"Say," said a tall, lank cowman, "if you'll go in and sleep till +daylight, usn'll scour this part of the desert with a fine-tooth comb. +So you all won't lose a minute by taking a little rest. An' if we find +the Injun we'll string him up and save you the trouble." +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt spoke for the first time. +</P> + +<P> +"If you find the Indian," he said succinctly, "he's mine!" +</P> + +<P> +There was a moment's silence in the crowd. These men were familiar +with elemental passion. DeWitt's feeling was perfectly correct in +their eyes. The pause came as each pictured himself in DeWitt's place +with the image of the delicate Eastern girl suffering who knew what +torments constantly before him. +</P> + +<P> +"If Mr. Kelly can arrange for that," said Jack, "I guess it will about +save our lives. I'd like a chance to write a letter to my wife." +</P> + +<P> +"You ought to go back to the ditch, Jack," said DeWitt, "Porter and I +will manage somehow." +</P> + +<P> +Jack gave DeWitt a strange look. +</P> + +<P> +"Rhoda's a lifelong friend of mine. She was stolen from my home by my +friend whom I told her she could trust. Katherine and the foreman can +run the ranch." +</P> + +<P> +By the time that the four had washed themselves, Kelly had his men +dotted over the surrounding desert. For the first time in weeks, the +searchers sat down at a table. DeWitt, Porter and Newman were in +astonishing contrast to the three who had dined at the Newman ranch the +night of Cartwell's introduction to Porter. Their khaki clothes had +gradually been replaced by nondescript garments picked up at various +ranches. DeWitt and Porter boasted of corduroy trousers, while Jack +wore overalls. On the other hand, Jack wore a good blue flannel shirt, +while the other two displayed only faded gingham garments that might +have answered to almost any name. All of them were a deep mahogany +color, with chapped, split lips and bleached hair, while DeWitt's eyes +were badly inflamed from sun-glare and sand-storm. +</P> + +<P> +They ate silently. Dick Kelly, sitting at the head of the table, plied +them with food and asked few questions. DeWitt's shaking hands told +him that questions were torture to the poor fellow. After the meal +Kelly led them to bed at once, and they slept without stirring until +four o'clock in the morning, when the Chinaman called them. Breakfast +was steaming on the table. +</P> + +<P> +"Now," said Kelly, as his guests ate, "the boys didn't get a smell for +ye, but we've a suggestion. Have you been through the Pueblo country +yet?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," said Porter. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," the host went on, "Chira is the only place round here except my +ranch where he could get a new outfit. He's part Pueblo, you know, +too. I'd start for there if I was you." +</P> + +<P> +Carlos entered to hear this suggestion. +</P> + +<P> +"I've got a friend at Chira," he said, "who might help us. He's a +half-breed." +</P> + +<P> +The tired men took eagerly to this forlorn hope. With all the +population of the ranch, including the cook, gathered to wish them +Godspeed, the four started off before the sun had more than tinted the +east. Kelly had offered them anything on the ranch, from himself, his +cook and his cowboys, to the choice of his horses. His guests left as +much heartened by his cheerfulness and good will as they were by the +actual physical comforts he had given them. +</P> + +<P> +The trail to Chira was long and hard. They reached the little town at +dusk and Carlos set out at once in search of his friend, Philip. He +found him easily. He was half Mexican, half Pueblo. He and Carlos +chatted briskly in hybrid Spanish while the Americans watched the +horses wade in the little river. Visitors were so common in Chira that +the newcomers attracted little or no attention. +</P> + +<P> +Carlos finally turned from his friend. +</P> + +<P> +"Philip does not know anything about it. He says for us to come to his +house while he finds out anything. His wife is a good cook." +</P> + +<P> +The thought of a hot meal was pleasant to the Americans. They followed +gladly to Philip's adobe rooms. Here the half-breed left them to his +wife and disappeared. He was gone perhaps an hour when he returned +with a bit of cloth in his hand, which he handed to Carlos with a few +rapid sentences. Carlos gave the scrap of cloth to DeWitt, who looked +at it eagerly then gave a cry of joy. It was Rhoda's handkerchief. +</P> + +<P> +"He found a little girl washing her doll with it at the river," said +Carlos. "She said she found it blowing along the street this morning." +</P> + +<P> +"Come on!" cried Jack, making for the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Come on where?" said Billy. "If they are in the village, you don't +want to get away very far. And if they ain't, which way are you going?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ask Philip where to go, Carlos," said DeWitt. +</P> + +<P> +He held the little moist handkerchief in his hand tightly while his +heart beat heavily. Once more hope was soaring high. +</P> + +<P> +Philip thought deeply, then he and Carlos talked rapidly together. +</P> + +<P> +"Philip says," reported Carlos, "that you must go out and watch along +the river front so that if they have not gone you can catch them if +they try. He and I will go visit every family as if I wanted to buy an +outfit." +</P> + +<P> +Darkness had settled on the little town when the three Americans took +up their vigil opposite the open face of the Pueblo along the river. +All that night they stood on guard but not a human being crossed their +line of patrol. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +AN INTERLUDE +</H3> + + +<P> +Late in the afternoon, Rhoda woke. Kut-le stood beside her. His +expression was half eager, half tender. +</P> + +<P> +"How do you feel now?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Quite well," answered Rhoda. "Will you call Marie? I want to dress." +</P> + +<P> +"You must rest in bed today," replied the Indian. "Tomorrow will be +soon enough for you to get up." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda looked at the young man with irritation. +</P> + +<P> +"Can't you learn that I am not a squaw? That it maddens me to be +ordered about? That every time you do you alienate me more, if +possible?" +</P> + +<P> +"You do foolish stunts," said Kut-le calmly, "and I have to put you +right." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda moaned. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, how long, how long must I endure this! How could they be so +stupid as to let you slip through their fingers so!" +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le's mouth became a narrow seam. +</P> + +<P> +"As soon as I can get you into the Sierra Madre, I shall marry you. +You are practically a well woman now. But I am not going to hurry +overmuch. You are going to love me first and you are going to love +this life first. Then we will go to Paris until the storm has passed." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda did not seem to hear him. She tossed her arms restlessly. +</P> + +<P> +"Please send Marie to me," she said finally. "You will permit me to +eat something perhaps?" +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le left the room at once. In a short time he returned with Marie, +who bore a steaming bowl which he himself flanked with a dish of +luscious melon. The woman propped Rhoda adroitly to a sitting position +and Kut-le gravely balanced the bowl against the girl's knees. The +stew which the bowl contained was delicious, and Rhoda ate it to the +last drop. She ate in silence, while Kut-le watched her with +unspeakable longing in his eyes. The room was almost dark when the +simple meal was finished. Marie brightened the fire and smoothed +Rhoda's blankets. +</P> + +<P> +"Kut-le go now," said the Pueblo woman. "You rest. In morning, Marie +bring white squaw some clothes." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda was glad to pillow her head on her arm but it was long before she +slept. She tried to piece together her faint and distorted +recollection of the occurrences since the morning when the mesa had +risen through the dawn. But her only clear picture was of John +DeWitt's wild face as she disappeared into the fissure. She recalled +its look of agony and sobbed a little to herself as she realized what +torture he and the Newmans must have endured since her disappearance. +And yet she was very hopeful. If her friends could come as close to +her as they did before the mesa, they must be learning Kut-le's +methods. Surely the next time luck would not play so well for the +Indian. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda woke in the morning to the sound of song. Marie knelt on the +ground before a sloping slab of stone and patiently kneeded corn with a +smaller stone. Her song, a quaint repetition of short mellow syllables +pleased Rhoda's sensitive ear and she lay listening. When Marie saw +Rhoda's wide eyes she came to the girl's side. +</P> + +<P> +"You feel good now?" she queried. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, much better. I want to get up." +</P> + +<P> +The Indian woman nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Marie clean white squaw's clothes. White squaw wear Marie's. Now +Marie help you wash." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"You are not an Apache if you want me to bathe!" +</P> + +<P> +Marie answered indignantly. +</P> + +<P> +"Marie is Pueblo squaw!" +</P> + +<P> +The clothes that Marie brought, Rhoda thought very attractive. There +was a soft wool underdress of creamiest tint. Over this Marie pulled, +fastening it at one shoulder, a gay, many-colored overdress which, like +the one she herself wore, reached to the knees. Rhoda pulled on her +own high laced boots which had been neatly mended. Then the two turned +their attention to the neglected braid of hair. +</P> + +<P> +When it was loosened and hung in tangled masses nearly to Rhoda's +knees, Marie's delight in its loveliness knew no expression. She +fetched a queer battered old comb which she washed and then proceeded +with true feminine rapture to comb the wonderful waving locks. In the +midst of this Kut-le entered. He gazed on Rhoda's new disguise with +delight. Indeed her delicate face, above the many-hued garment, was +like a harebell growing in a gaudy nasturtium bed. +</P> + +<P> +"We can only let you on the roof," said Kut-le, who was carrying +Rhoda's sombrero. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda made no reply but when Marie had plaited her hair in a rippling +braid she followed Kut-le up the short ladder. Her sense of +cleanliness after the weeks of disorder was delightful. As she stepped +on the flat-topped roof and the sweet clear air filled her lungs she +felt as if reborn. With Navajo blankets, Kut-le had contrived an +awning that not only made a bit of shade but precluded view from below. +The rich tints of the blankets were startlingly picturesque against the +yellow gray of the adobe. Rhoda, dropped luxuriantly to the heap of +blankets and turned her face toward the mountain, many-colored and bare +toward the base, deep-cloaked with piñon, oak and Juniper on the +uplands. From its base flowed the little river, gurgling over its +shallow bed of stone and rich with green along its flat banks. Close +beside the river was the Pueblo village, the many-terraced buildings, +on one of the roofs of which Rhoda sat. +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le, stretched on the roof near by, smoked cigarette after cigarette +as he watched the girl's quiet face, but he did not speak. For three +or four hours the two sat thus in silence. Just as the sun sank behind +the mountain, a bell clanged and then fell to tolling softly. Then +Kut-le broke his silence. +</P> + +<P> +"That's the bell of the old mission. Some one has been buried, I +guess. We can look. There are no tourists now." +</P> + +<P> +There was a sound of wailing: a deep mournful sound that caught Rhoda's +heart to her throat and blanched her face. It was the sound of the +grief of primitive man, the cry of the forlorn and broken-hearted, +uncloaked by convention. It touched a primitive chord of response in +Rhoda that set her to trembling. Surely, when the world was young she +too had wept so. Surely she too had voiced a poignant, unbearable loss +in just such a wild outpouring of grief! +</P> + +<P> +They moved to the edge of the terrace and looked below into the street. +Down the rocky way a line of Indians was bearing hand-mills and jars +and armloads of ornaments. +</P> + +<P> +"They will take those to the 'killing place' and break them that the +dead owner may have them afterward," explained Kut-le softly. "It +always makes me think of a verse in the Bible. I can't recall the +words exactly though." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda glanced up into the dark face with a look of appreciation. +</P> + +<P> +"'And the grinders shall cease because they are few!'" she said, "'and +those that look out of the windows be darkened. And the doors shall be +shut in the street when the sound of the grinding is low, because man +goeth to his long home and mourners go about the street.'" +</P> + +<P> +"And there is something else," murmured Kut-le, "about 'the silver +cord.'" +</P> + +<P> +"'Or ever the silver cord be loosed or the golden bowl be broken or the +pitcher be broken at the fountain or the wheel broken at the cistern. +Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was and the spirit to God +who gave it.'" +</P> + +<P> +They stood in silence again. The wailing died into the distance. The +sun touched to molten gold the heavy shadows of the mountain arroyos. +Rhoda was deeply moved by the scene below her. She felt as if she had +been thrust back through the ages to look upon the sorrow of some +little Judean town. The little rocky street, the vivid robes, the +weird, dying wail, the broken ornaments and utensils that some folded +tired hands would use no more, and, above all, the simple unquestioning +faith, roused in her a sudden longing for a life that she never had +known. For a long time she stood in thought. As darkness fell she +roused herself. +</P> + +<P> +"Let me go back to my room," she said. +</P> + +<P> +As they turned, neither noticed that Rhoda's little handkerchief, which +she had carried through all her experiences, fluttered from her sleeve +to the street. +</P> + +<P> +Again it was long before Rhoda slept. Through her window there floated +the sound of song, the evening singing of Indian lads in the village +street. There was a vibrant quality in their voices that Rhoda could +liken only to the music of stringed instruments. There was neither the +mellow smoothness of the negro voice nor the flute-like sweetness of +the white, yet the voices compassed all the mystical appealing quality +of violin notes. +</P> + +<P> +The music woke in Rhoda a longing for she knew not what. It seemed to +her as if she were peering past a misty veil into the childhood of the +world to whose simple beauty and delights civilization had made her +alien. The vibrating voices chanted slower and slower. Rhoda stirred +uneasily. To be free again as these voices were free! Not to long for +the civilization she had left but for open skies and trails! To be +free again! +</P> + +<P> +As the voices melted into silence, a guitar was touched softly under +Rhoda's window and Kut-le's voice rose in <I>La Golondrina</I>: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Whither so swiftly flies the timid swallow?<BR> +What distant bourne seeks her untiring wing?<BR> +To reach her nest what needle does she follow<BR> +When darkness wraps the poor wee storm-tossed thing?" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda stirred restlessly and threw her arms above her head. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"To build her nest near to my couch I'll call her!<BR> +Why go so far dark and strange skies to seek?<BR> +Safe would she be, no evil should befall her,<BR> +For I'm an exile sad, too sad to weep!" +</P> + +<P> +Mist-like floated across Rhoda's mind a memory of the trail with voice +of mating bird at dawn, with stars and the night wind and the open way. +And going before, always Kut-le—Kut-le of the unfathomable eyes, of +the merry smile, of the gentle touch. The music merged itself into +Rhoda's dreams. +</P> + +<P> +She spent the following day on the roof. Curled on her Navajo she +watched the changing tones on the mountains and listened to the soft +voices of the Pueblo women in the street below. Naked brown babies +climbed up and down the ladders and paddled in the shallow river Indian +women with scarlet shawls across their shoulders filled their ollas at +the river and stood gossiping, the brimming ollas on their heads. In +the early morning the men had trudged to the alfalfa and melon fields +and returned at sundown to be greeted joyfully by the women and +children. +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le spent the day at Rhoda's side. They talked but little, though +Rhoda had definitely abandoned her rule of silence toward the Indian. +Her mind during most of the day was absorbed in wondering why she so +enjoyed watching the life in this Indian town and why she was not more +impatient to be gone. +</P> + +<P> +As the sun dropped behind the mountain Marie appeared on the roof, her +black eyes very bright. +</P> + +<P> +"Half-breed Philip find white squaw's handkerchief. Give to white men, +maybe! Marie see Philip get handkerchief from little girl." +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le gave Rhoda an inscrutable look, but she did not tell him that +she shared his surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," said Kut-le calmly, "maybe we had better mosey along." +</P> + +<P> +They descended to find Marie hastily doing up a bundle of bread and +fruit. While Kut-le went for blankets Rhoda, at Marie's request, +donned her old clothing of the trail. She had been wearing the squaw's +holiday outfit. Very shortly, with a hasty farewell to Marie, they +were in the dusky street. "Shall I gag you," asked Kut-le, "or will +you give me your word of honor to give neither sign nor sound until we +get to the mountain, and to keep your face covered with your Navajo?" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda sighed. +</P> + +<P> +"Very well, I promise," she said. +</P> + +<P> +In a very short time they had reached the end of the little street and +were climbing an arroyo up into the mountain. When they reached the +piñons Kut-le gave the coyote call. It thrilled Rhoda with the misery +of the night of her capture. Almost immediately there was an answering +call and close in the shadow of the piñon they found Alchise and the +two squaws. Molly ran to Rhoda with a squeal of joy and patted the +girl's hand but Alchise and Cesca gave no heed to her greeting. +</P> + +<P> +The ponies were ready and Rhoda swung herself to her saddle, with a +thrill at the touch of the muscular little horse. And once more she +rode after Kut-le with the mystery of the night trail before her. +</P> + +<P> +The sound of water falling, the cheep of wakening birds, the subtle +odor of moisture-drenched soil roused Rhoda from her half sleep on the +horse's back at the end of the night's journey. The trail had not been +hard, through an endless pine forest for the most part. Kut-le drew +rein beside a little waterfall deep in the mountain fastness. Rhoda +saw a chaos of rock masses huge and distorted, as if an inconceivably +cruel and gigantic hand had juggled with weights seemingly immovable; +about these the loveliness of vine and shrub; above them the towering +junipers dwarfed by the rocks they shaded; and falling softly over the +harsh brown rifts of rock, the liquid green and white of a mountain +brook which, as it reached the level, rushed away in a roar of foam. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda's horse drank thirstily and she stood beside him watching the +mystical gray of the dawn lift to the riotous rose of the sunrise. She +wondered at the quick throb of her pulse. It was very different from +its wonted soft beat. Then she threw herself on her blanket to sleep. +</P> + +<P> +When Rhoda woke, late in the day, Kut-le had spread Marie's cakes and +fruit on leaves which he had washed in the brook. +</P> + +<P> +"They are quite clean, I think," he said a little anxiously. "At least +the squaws haven't touched them." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda and Kut-le sat on a rock and ate hungrily. When she had finished +Rhoda clasped her hands about her knees. She looked singularly boyish, +with her sombrero pushed back from her face and short locks of damp +hair curling from beneath the crown. +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't it queer," she said, "that you elude Jack and John DeWitt so +easily?" +</P> + +<P> +"The trouble is," said Kut-le, "that you don't appreciate the prowess +of your captors." +</P> + +<P> +"Humph!" sniffed Rhoda. +</P> + +<P> +"Listen!" cried Kut-le with sudden enthusiasm. "Once in my boyhood +Geronima and about twenty warriors, with twice as many squaws and +children, fled to the mountains. They never drew rein until they were +one hundred and twenty miles from the reservation. Then for six months +they were pursued by two thousand American soldiers and they never lost +a man!" +</P> + +<P> +"How many whites were killed?" asked Rhoda. +</P> + +<P> +"About a hundred!" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't understand yet," Rhoda shook her head, "how savages could +outwit whites for so long a time." +</P> + +<P> +"But it's not a contest of brains. Whites must travel like whites, +with food and rests. The Apache travels like the coyote, living off +the country. Your ancestors have been training your brain for a +thousand years. Mine have spent centuries of days, twenty-four hours a +day, training the body to endure hardships. You have had a glimpse of +what the hardships of this country might mean to a white!" +</P> + +<P> +As Kut-le talked, Rhoda sat with her eyes fastened on the rough face of +a distant rock. As she watched she saw a thick, leafy bush move up to +the rock. Rhoda caught her breath, glanced at the unconscious Kut-le, +then back at the bush. It moved slowly back among the trees and after +a moment Rhoda saw the undergrowth far beyond move as with a passing +breeze. She glanced at the nodding Alchise and the squaws, then smiled +and turned to Kut-le. +</P> + +<P> +"Go on with your boasting, Kut-le. It's your one weakness, I think." +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le grinned. +</P> + +<P> +"Well now, honestly, what do you think that a lot of Caucasians can do +with an enemy whose existence has always been a fist to fist fight with +nature at her cruelest? We have fought with our bare hands and we have +won," he continued, half to himself. "No white man or any number of +whites can capture me on my own ground!" +</P> + +<P> +"Boaster!" laughed Rhoda. +</P> + +<P> +Just beyond the falls an aspen quivered. John DeWitt stepped into +view. Haggard and wild-eyed, he stared at Rhoda. She raised her +finger to her lips, but too late. Kut-le too looked up, and raised his +gun. Rhoda hurled herself toward him and struck up the barrel. Kut-le +dropped the gun and caught Rhoda in his arms. +</P> + +<P> +"The woods are full of them!" he grunted. With one hand across Rhoda's +mouth, he ran around the falls and dropped six feet to a narrow back +trail. +</P> + +<P> +"My own ground!" Rhoda heard him chuckle. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE BEAUTY OF THE WORLD +</H3> + + +<P> +For many hurrying minutes, Rhoda saw only the passing tree branches +black against the evening sky as she lay across Kut-le's breast. The +pursuers had made no sound nor had Kut-le broken a single twig. The +entire incident might have been a pantomime, with every actor +tragically intent. +</P> + +<P> +Having long learned the futility of struggling, Rhoda lay quietly +enough, her ears keen to catch the sound of pursuit. Kut-le did not +remove his hand from her mouth. But as he dropped rapidly and +skilfully down the mountainside he whispered: +</P> + +<P> +"My own ground, you see! It will take them a good while in the dusk to +find that back trail. Only a few Indians know it." +</P> + +<P> +But Rhoda's heart was beating high. Let Kut-le boast as he would, she +was sure that Jack and John DeWitt were learning to follow the trail. +The most vivid picture in her mind was of the utter weariness of John's +face. In the past weeks Rhoda had learned how fearful had been the +hardships that would bring such weariness to a human face. Tears came +to her eyes. No one so weak, so useless as herself, she felt, could be +worth such travail. +</P> + +<P> +Silently they moved through the dusk. Rhoda knew that the other +Indians must be close behind them, yet no sound betrayed their +presence. After a half-hour or so she struggled to be set down. But +Kut-le only tightened his hold and it was fully two hours later that he +set her on her feet. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't move," he said. "We are on a cañon edge." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda swung her blanket to her shoulders, for the night was stinging +sharp. She was not afraid. She had grown so accustomed to the night +trail that she moved unhesitatingly along black rims that had at first +paralyzed her with fear. +</P> + +<P> +"Now," said Kut-le, "I'm not going to travel on foot. The only horses +within easy distance are some that a bunch of Navajos have in the cañon +below here. So we will go down and get them. We will go together +because I can't risk coming back for you. We will have to hike +<I>pronto</I> after we get 'em. Just remember that you are contaminated by +the company you are keeping and that if you make any noise, the Navajos +will shoot you up, with the rest of us! Keep right behind me." +</P> + +<P> +The little group moved carefully down the cañon trail. In a short time +they reached a growth of trees. They stole through these, the only +sound Rhoda's panting breaths. Suddenly Kut-le stopped. +</P> + +<P> +"Wait here!" he breathed in Rhoda's ear, and he and Alchise disappeared. +</P> + +<P> +A hand was laid on her arm and Rhoda knew that Molly and Cesca were +guarding her. Almost immediately the soft thud of hoofs was upon them. +Kut-le seized Rhoda and tossed her to a pony's back. +</P> + +<P> +"It was dead easy!" he whispered. "They were all asleep! I even took +a saddle for you! Now hike!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda gripped her pony with her knees as the little fellow cantered +unerringly through the darkness after Kut-le. She felt a sudden pride +and exultation in the security she had developed in the saddle during +the travail of her night rides. She knew that no man of her +acquaintance could ride a horse as she could now. And with the +exultation she was trembling with excitement. She knew that none of +them could expect mercy if the Navajos discovered their loss in time to +take up the chase. All the eagerness of the gambler who stakes his +life on a throw of the dice; all the wild thrill of the chase; all the +trembling of the panting, woodland things that hunt and are hunted, +were Rhoda's as the night wind rushed past her face. The apathy of +illness was gone. Tonight she was as wild a thing as the night's birds +that brushed across their trail on sweeping wing. +</P> + +<P> +When they made camp at dawn Rhoda tumbled into her blanket and was +asleep before Alchise finished covering their trail. When she woke she +found that they were camped in a strange eerie. They were high up on a +mountain on a shelf that gave back into a shallow cave. In front, +facing the desert, was a heap of rock that formed a natural rampart. A +tiny spring bubbled from the cave floor. Here the little party would +seem as secure in their dizzy seclusion as eagles of the Andes. +</P> + +<P> +It was barely noon and the mountain air was sweet and exhilarating. +Kut-le sat against the rampart, smoking a cigarette, while Molly and +Cesca worked over the fire. Rhoda lunched on the tortillas to which +Molly had clung through all the vicissitudes of flight. +</P> + +<P> +"Where are the horses?" she asked Kut-le. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Alchise took them back. We must stay here a while till your mob +of friends disperses. I couldn't feed them and I wanted to pacify the +Navajos and get some supplies from them. Alchise will fix it up with +them." +</P> + +<P> +And here on this dizzy brink of the desert Kut-le did pause as if for a +long, long holiday. The wisdom of the proceeding did not trouble him +at all. The call of the desert was an allurement to which he yielded +unresistingly, trusting to elude capture through his skill and +unfailing good fortune. +</P> + +<P> +To Rhoda the pause was welcome. She still had faith that the longer +they camped in one spot the surer would be the pursuers to stumble upon +them. Kut-le began to devote himself entirely to Rhoda's amusement. +He knew all the plant and animal life of the desert, not only as an +Indian but as a college man who had loved biology. By degrees Rhoda's +good brain began to respond to his vivid interest and the girl in her +stay on the mountain shelf learned the desert as has been given to few +whites to learn it. Besides what she learned from the men Rhoda became +expert in camp work under Molly's patient teaching. She could kindle +the tiny, smokeless fire. She could concoct appetizing messes from the +crude food. She could detect good water from bad and could find forage +for horses. The crowning pride of her achievements was learning to +weave the dish basketry. +</P> + +<P> +They had lived in the mountain niche some three weeks when Alchise and +Kut-le left the camp one afternoon, Alchise on a turkey hunt, Kut-le on +one of his mysterious trips for supplies. Alchise returned at dusk +with a beautiful bird which Rhoda and Molly roasted with enthusiasm. +But Kut-le did not appear at supper time as he had promised. When the +meal was almost spoiled from waiting, Rhoda and the Indians ate. As +the evening wore on, Alchise grew uneasy, but he dared not disobey +Kut-le's orders and leave the camp unguarded at night. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda speculated, torn between hope and fear. Perhaps the searchers +had captured Kut-le at last. Perhaps he had given up hope of winning +her love and had gone for good. Perhaps, somewhere or other, he was +lying badly hurt! The little group sat up much later than usual, Cesca +silently smoking her endless cigarettes, Alchise and Molly talking now +in Apache, now in English. Rhoda was convinced that they were puzzled +and worried. +</P> + +<P> +Even after she had lain down on her blankets Rhoda could not sleep. +With Kut-le gone her sense of the camp's security was gone. She rose +finally and sat beside Alchise who, rifle in hand, guarded the ledge. +There was no moon but the stars were very large and near. Rhoda was +growing to know the stars. They were remote in the East; in the desert +they become a part of one's existence. The sense of stupendous +distance was greater at night than in the daytime. The infinite +heavens, stretching depth beyond depth, the faint far spaces of the +desert, were as if one looked on the Great Mystery itself. +</P> + +<P> +When dawn came, Alchise wakened Cesca, put the rifle into her hands, +and hurried back up over the mountain. The purple shadows had +lightened to gray when Rhoda saw Kut-le staggering up the trail from +the desert. Rhoda gave a little cry and ran down to meet him. +</P> + +<P> +"Kut-le! What happened to you? We were so worried!" +</P> + +<P> +There was a bloody rag tied just below the young Indian's knee. He +paused, supporting himself against a rock. Across his eyes, drawn and +haggard with pain, flashed a look of joy that Rhoda, eying the bandage, +did not see. +</P> + +<P> +"I was late starting back," he said briefly. "In the darkness a bit of +the trail gave way, dropped me into a cañon and laid my leg open. I +was unconscious a long time and lost a lot of blood, so it has taken me +the rest of the night to get here. Would you mind getting Alchise to +help me up the trail?" +</P> + +<P> +"Alchise has gone to look for you. Lean on me," said Rhoda simply. +</P> + +<P> +Despite his weakness, the dark blood flushed the young man's face, +while Rhoda's utter unconsciousness of her changed manner brought a +smile to his set lips. Not if the torture of dragging himself up the +trail were to be ten times greater would he now have availed himself of +help from Alchise. +</P> + +<P> +"If you will let me put my arm across your shoulder we can make it," he +said as quietly as though his heart were not leaping. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda's squaring of her slender shoulders was distractingly boyish. +Utterly heedless of the pain which each step cost him, Kut-le made his +way slowly to the ledge, ordering back the flustered squaws and leaning +on Rhoda only enough to feel the tender girlish shoulders beneath the +worn blue blouse. +</P> + +<P> +In the camp, Rhoda assumed command while Kut-le lay on his blanket +watching her in silent content. She put one of Alchise's two calico +shirts on to boil over the breakfast fire. She washed out the nasty +cut and bandaged it with strips from the sterilized shirt. She brought +Kut-le's breakfast and her own to his blanket side and coaxed the young +man to eat, he assuming great indifference merely for the happiness of +being urged. Rhoda was so energetic and efficient that the sun was +just climbing from behind the far peaks when Kut-le finished his bacon +and coffee. The girl stood looking at him, hands on hips, head on one +side, with that look in her eyes of superiority, maternity and +complacent tenderness which a woman can assume only when she has +ministered to the needs of a helpless masculine thing. +</P> + +<P> +"There!" she said with a sigh of satisfaction. +</P> + +<P> +"Rhoda," said Kut-le, hoping that the heavy thumping of his heart did +not shake his whole broad chest, "how long ago was it that you were a +helpless, dying little girl without strength to cut up your own food? +How long since you have served any one but yourself?" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda drew a quick breath. She stood staring from the Indian to the +desert, to her slender body, and back again. She held out her hands +and looked at them. They were scratched and brown and did not tremble. +Then she looked at the young Indian and he never was to forget the +light in her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Kut-le!" she cried. "Kut-le! I am well again! I am well again!" +</P> + +<P> +She paced back and forth along the ledge. Through the creamy tan her +cheeks flushed richly crimson. Finally she stopped before the Apache. +</P> + +<P> +"You have outraged all my civilized instincts," she said slowly, "yet +you have saved my life and given me health. Whatever comes, Kut-le, I +never shall forget that!" +</P> + +<P> +"I have changed more than that," said Kut-le quietly. "Where is your +old hatred of the desert?" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda turned to look. At the edge of the distant ranges showed a rim +of red. Crimson spokes of fire flashed to the zenith. The sky grew +brighter, more translucent, the ranges melted into molten gold. The +sun, hot and scarlet, rolled into view. Into Rhoda's heart flooded a +sense of infinite splendor, infinite beauty, infinite peace. +</P> + +<P> +"Why!" she gasped to Kut-le, "it is beautiful! It's not terrible! +It's unadorned beauty!" +</P> + +<P> +The Indian nodded but did not speak. Rhoda never was to forget that +day. Long years after she was to catch the afterglow of that day of +her rebirth. Suddenly she realized that never could a human have found +health in a setting more marvelous. The realization was almost too +much. Kut-le, with sympathy for which she was grateful, did not talk +to her much. Once, however, as she brought him a drink and +mechanically smoothed his blanket he said softly: +</P> + +<P> +"You who have been served and demanded service all your life, why do +you do this?" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda answered slowly. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not serving you. I'm trying to pay up some of the debt of my +life." +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le was about in a day or so and by the end of the week he was quite +himself. He resumed the daily expeditions with Rhoda and Alchise which +provided text for the girl's desert learning. Rhoda's old despondency, +her old agony of prayer for immediate rescue had given way to a strange +conflict of desires. She was eager for rescue, was conscious of a +constant aching desire for her own people, and yet the old sense of +outrage, of grief, of hopelessness was gone. +</P> + +<P> +Of a sudden she found herself pausing, thrusting back the problems that +confronted her while she drank to the full this strange mad joy of life +which she felt must leave her when she left the desert. She knew only +that the fear of death was gone. That hours of fever and pain were no +more. That her mind had found its old poise but with an utterly new +view-point of life. Her blood ran red. Her lungs breathed deep. Her +eyes saw distances too big for their conception, beauties so deep that +her spirit had to expand to absorb them. +</P> + +<P> +The silent nights of stars, the laborious crests that tossed sudden and +unspeakable views before the eyes, the eternal cañons that led beneath +ranges of surpassing majesty, roused in her a passion of delight that +could find expression only in her growing physical prowess. She lived +and ate like a splendid boy. Day after day she scaled the ranges with +Kut-le and Alchise; tenderly reared creature of an ultracivilization as +she was, she learned the intricate lore of the aborigines, learned what +students of the dying people would give their hearts to know. +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le wakened Rhoda at dawn one day. She prepared the breakfast of +coffee, bacon and tortilla. Alchise shared this eagerly with Rhoda and +Kut-le, though already he had eaten with the squaws. The day was still +gray when the three set out on a long day's trip in search of game. +The way this morning led up a cañon deep and quiet, with the night +shadows still dark and cool within it. The air was that of a northern +day of June. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda tramped bravely, up and up, from cactus to bear grass, from bear +grass to stunted cedar, from cedar to pines that at last rose +triumphant at the crest of a great ridge. Here Rhoda and Kut-le flung +themselves to the ground to rest while Alchise prowled about +restlessly. Across a hundred miles of desert rose faint snow-capped +peaks. +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le watched Rhoda's rapt face for a time. Then, as if unable to +keep back the words, he said softly: +</P> + +<P> +"Rhoda! Stay here, always! Marry me and stay here always!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda looked at the beautiful pleading eyes. She stirred restlessly; +but before she could frame an answer Alchise appeared, followed by a +lean old Indian all but toothless who wore a pair of tattered overalls +and a gauze shirt. The two Indians stopped before Kut-le, and Alchise +jerked a thumb at the stranger. +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Sabe</I> no white talk," he said. +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le passed the stranger a cigarette, which he accepted without +comment. A rapid conversation followed between the three Indians. +</P> + +<P> +"He is an Apache," explained Kut-le, finally, to Rhoda. "His name is +Injun Tom. He says that Newman and Porter hired him to trail us but he +is tired of the job. They foolishly advanced him five dollars. He +says they are camping in the valley right below here." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda sprang to her feet. +</P> + +<P> +"Where are you going?" smiled Kut-le. "He says they are going to shoot +me on sight!" +</P> + +<P> +Under her tan Rhoda's face whitened. +</P> + +<P> +"Would they shoot you, Kut-le, even if I told them not to?" +</P> + +<P> +At the sight of the paling face the young man murmured, "You dear!" +under his breath. Then aloud, "Not if I were your husband." +</P> + +<P> +"How can I marry a savage?" cried Rhoda. +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le put his hand under the cleft chin and lifted the sweet face till +it looked directly into his. His gaze was very deep and clear. +</P> + +<P> +"Am I nothing but a naked savage, Rhoda?" he said. "Am I?" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda's eyes did not leave his. +</P> + +<P> +"No!" she said softly, under her breath. +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le's eyes deepened. He turned and picked up his rifle. +</P> + +<P> +"Bring your friend back to dinner, Alchise," he said. "Our little +holiday must end right here." +</P> + +<P> +They reached the camp at noon and while the squaws made ready for +breaking camp, Rhoda sat deep in thought. Before her were the burning +sky and desert, with hawk and buzzard circling in the clear blue. +Where had the old hatred of Kut-le gone? Whence came this new trust +and understanding, this thrill at his touch? Kut-le, who had been +watching her adoringly, rose and came to her side. The rampart hid the +two from the others. Kut-le took one of Rhoda's hands in his firm +fingers and laid his lips against her palm. Rhoda flushed and drew her +hand away. But Kut-le again put his hand beneath her cleft chin and +lifted her face to his. +</P> + +<P> +Just as the brown face all but touched hers a voice sounded from behind +the rampart: +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, you! Where's Kut-le?" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +AN ESCAPE +</H3> + + +<P> +Rhoda sprang away from Kut-le and they both ran to the other side of +the rampart. Billy Porter, worn and tattered but still looking very +well able to hold his own, stood staring into the cave where the squaws +eyed him open-mouthed and Alchise, his hand on his rifle, scowled at +him aggressively. Porter's eye fell on Injun Tom. +</P> + +<P> +"U-huh! You pison Piute, you! I just nacherally snagged your little +game, didn't I?" +</P> + +<P> +"Billy!" cried Rhoda. "O Billy Porter!" +</P> + +<P> +Porter jumped as if at a blow. Rhoda stood against the rock in her +boyish clothes, her beautiful braid sweeping her shoulder, her face +vivid. +</P> + +<P> +"My God! Miss Rhoda!" cried Billy hoarsely, as he ran toward her with +outstretched hands. "Why, you are well! What's happened to you!" +</P> + +<P> +Here Kut-le stepped between the two. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, Mr. Porter," he said. +</P> + +<P> +Billy stepped back and a look of loathing and anger took the place of +the joy that had been in his eyes before. +</P> + +<P> +"You Apache devil!" he growled. "You ain't as smart as you thought you +were!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda ran forward and would have taken Porter's hand but Kut-le +restrained her with his hand on her shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"Where did you come from, Billy?" cried Rhoda. "Where are the others?" +</P> + +<P> +Billy's face cleared a little at the sound of the girl's voice. +</P> + +<P> +"They are right handy, Miss Rhoda." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll give you a few details, Rhoda," said Kut-le coolly. "You see he +is without water and his mouth is black with thirst. He started to +trail Injun Tom but got lost and stumbled on us." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda gave a little cry of pity and running into the cave she brought +Billy a brimming cup of water. +</P> + +<P> +"Is that true, Billy?" she asked. "Are the others near here?" +</P> + +<P> +Billy nodded then drained the cup and held it out for more. +</P> + +<P> +"They are just around the corner!" with a glance at Kut-le, who smiled +skeptically. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" exclaimed Rhoda. "What terrible trouble I have made you all!" +</P> + +<P> +"You made!" said Porter. "Well that's good! Still, that Apache devil +doesn't seem to have harmed you. Just the same, he'll get his! If I +shot him now, the other Injuns would get me and God knows what would +happen to you!" +</P> + +<P> +"Whom do you call an Apache devil?" asked Kut-le. Rhoda never had seen +him show such evident anger. +</P> + +<P> +"You, by Judas!" replied Porter, looking into the young Indian's face. +</P> + +<P> +For a strained moment the two eyed each other, hatred glaring at +hatred, until Rhoda put a hand on Kut-le's arm. His face cleared at +once. +</P> + +<P> +"So that's my reputation now, is it?" he said lightly. +</P> + +<P> +"<I>That's</I> your reputation!" sneered Billy. "Do you think that's <I>all</I>? +Why, don't you realize that you can't live in your own country again? +Don't you know that the whites will hunt you out like you was a rat? +Don't you realize that the folks that believed in you and was fond of +you has had to give up their faith in you? Don't you understand that +you've lost all your white friends? But I suppose that don't mean +anything to an Injun!" +</P> + +<P> +A look of sadness passed over Kut-le's face. +</P> + +<P> +"Porter," he said very gently, "I counted on all of that before I did +this thing. I thought that the sacrifice was worth while, and I still +think so. I'm sorry, for your sake, that you stumbled on us here. We +are going to start on the trail shortly and I must send you out to be +lost again. I'll let Alchise help you in the job. As you say, I have +sacrificed everything else in life; I can't afford to let anything +spoil this now. You can rest for an hour. Eat and drink and fill your +canteen. Take a good pack of meat and tortillas. You are welcome to +it all." +</P> + +<P> +The Indian spoke with such dignity, with such tragic sincerity, that +Porter gave him a look of surprise and Rhoda felt hot tears in her +eyes. Kut-le turned to the girl. +</P> + +<P> +"You can see that I can't let you talk alone with Porter, but go ahead +and say anything you want to in my hearing. Molly, you bring the white +man some dinner and fix him some trail grub. Hurry up, now!" +</P> + +<P> +He seated himself on the rampart and lighted a cigarette. Porter sat +down meditatively, with his back against the mountain wall. He was +discomfited. Kut-le had guessed correctly as to the circumstances of +his finding the camp. He had no idea where his friends might have gone +in the twenty-four hours since he had left them. When he stumbled on +to Kut-le he had had a sudden hope that the Indian might take him +captive. The Indian's quiet reception of him nonplussed him and roused +his unwilling admiration. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda sat down beside Porter. +</P> + +<P> +"How is John?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"He is pretty good. He has lasted better than I thought he would." +</P> + +<P> +"And Katherine and Jack?" Rhoda's voice trembled as she uttered the +names. It was only with the utmost difficulty that she spoke +coherently. All her nerves were on the alert for some unexpected +action on the part of either Billy or the Indians. +</P> + +<P> +"Jack's all right," said Billy. "We ain't seen Mrs. Jack since the day +after you was took, but she's all to the good, of course, except she's +been about crazy about you, like the rest of us." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you poor, poor people!" moaned Rhoda. +</P> + +<P> +Porter essayed a smile with his cracked lips. +</P> + +<P> +"But, say, you do look elegant, Miss Rhoda. You ain't the same girl!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda blushed through her tan. +</P> + +<P> +"I forgot these," she said; "I've worn them so long." +</P> + +<P> +"It ain't the clothes," said Billy, "and it ain't altogether your fine +health. It's more—I don't know what it is! It's like the desert!" +</P> + +<P> +"That's what I tell her," said Kut-le. +</P> + +<P> +"Say," said Billy, scowling, "you've got a nerve, cutting in as if this +was a parlor conversation you had cut in on casual. Just keep out of +this, will you!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda flushed. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, as long as he can hear everything, it's a good deal of a farce +not to let him talk," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"Farce!" exclaimed Billy. "Say, Miss Rhoda, you ain't sticking up for +this ornery Piute, are you?" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda looked at the calm eyes of the Indian, at the clean-cut +intelligence of his face, and she resented Porter's words. She +answered him softly but clearly. +</P> + +<P> +"Kut-le did an awful and unforgivable thing in stealing me. No one +knows that better than I do. But he has treated me with respect and he +has given me back my health. I thank him for that and—and I do +respect him!" +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le's eyes flashed with a deep light but he said nothing. Porter +stared at the girl with jaw dropped. +</P> + +<P> +"Good Lord!" he cried. "Respect him! Wouldn't that come and get you! +Do you mean that you want to stay with that Injun?" +</P> + +<P> +A slow flush covered Rhoda's tanned cheeks. Her cleft chin lifted a +little. +</P> + +<P> +"At the very first chance," she replied, "I shall escape." +</P> + +<P> +Porter sighed in great relief. +</P> + +<P> +"That's all right, Miss Rhoda," he said leniently. "Respect him all +you want to. I don't see how you can, but women is queer, if you don't +mind my saying so. I don't blame you for feeling thankful about your +health. You've stood this business better than any of us. Say, that +squaw seems to be puttin' all her time on making up my pack. Can't I +negotiate for something to eat right now? Tell her not to put pison +into it." +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le grinned. +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe Miss Tuttle will fix up something for you, so you can eat +without worrying." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, she won't, you know!" growled Porter. "<I>Her</I> wait on me! She +ain't no squaw!" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, but," cried Rhoda, "you don't know how proud I am of my skill! I +can run the camp just as well as the squaws." Then, as Porter scowled +at Kut-le, "He didn't make me! I wanted to, so as to be able to take +care of myself when I escaped. When you and I get away from him," she +looked at the silent Indian with an expression of daring that brought a +glint of amusement to his eyes, "I'll be able to live off the trail +better than you!" +</P> + +<P> +"Gee!" exclaimed Porter admiringly. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course, in one way it's no credit to me at all," Rhoda went on, +stirring the rabbit stew she was warming up. "Kut-le—" she paused. +Of what use was it to try to explain what Kut-le had done for her! +</P> + +<P> +She toasted fresh tortillas and poured the stew over them and brought +the steaming dish to Porter. He tasted of the mess tentatively. +</P> + +<P> +"By Hen!" he exclaimed, and he set upon the stew as if half starved, +while Rhoda watched him complacently. +</P> + +<P> +Seeing him apparently thus engrossed, Kut-le turned to speak to +Alchise. Instantly Porter dropped the stew, drew a revolver and fired +two rapid shots, one catching Alchise in the leg, the other Injun Tom. +Before he could get Kut-le the young Indian was upon him. +</P> + +<P> +"Run, Rhoda, run!" yelled Porter, as he went down, under Kut-le. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda gave one glance at Injun Tom and Alchise writhing with their +wounds, at Porter's fingers tightening at Kut-le's throat, then she +seized the canteen she had filled for Porter and started madly down the +trail. The screaming squaws gave no heed to her. +</P> + +<P> +She ran swiftly, surely, down the rocky way, watching the trail with +secondary sense, for every other was strained to catch the sounds from +above. But she heard nothing but the screams of the squaws. The trail +twisted violently near the desert floor. She sped about one last +jutting buttress, then stopped abruptly, one hand on her heaving breast. +</P> + +<P> +A man was running toward the foot of the trail. He, too, stopped +abruptly. The girl seemed a marvel of beauty to him. With the curly +hair beneath the drooping sombrero, the tanned, flushed face, the +parted scarlet lips, the throat and tiny triangle of chest disclosed by +the rough blue shirt with one button missing from the top, and the +beautiful lithe legs in the clinging buckskins, Rhoda was a wonderful +thing to come upon unexpectedly. As John DeWitt took off his hat, his +haggard face went white, his stalwart shoulders heaved. +</P> + +<P> +"O John! Dear John DeWitt!" cried Rhoda. "Turn back with me quick! I +am running away while Mr. Porter holds Kut-le!" +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt held out his shaking hands to her, unbelieving rapture growing +in his eyes. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap16"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ADRIFT IN THE DESERT +</H3> + + +<P> +Rhoda put her hands into the outstretched, shaking palms. +</P> + +<P> +"Rhoda! Sweetheart! Sweetheart!" DeWitt gasped. Then his voice +failed him. +</P> + +<P> +For an instant Rhoda leaned against his heaving chest. She felt as if +after long wandering in a dream she suddenly had stepped back into +life. But it was only for the instant that she paused. Her face was +blazing with excitement. +</P> + +<P> +"Come!" she cried. "Come!" +</P> + +<P> +"Take my arm! Or had I better carry you?" exclaimed DeWitt. +</P> + +<P> +"Huh!" sniffed Rhoda. "Just try to keep up with me, that's all!" +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt, despite the need for haste, stopped and stared at the girl, +open-mouthed. Then as he realized what superb health she showed in +every line of face and body, he cried: +</P> + +<P> +"You are well! You are well! O Rhoda, I never thought to see you this +way!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda squeezed his fingers joyfully. +</P> + +<P> +"I am so strong! Hurry, John! Hurry!" +</P> + +<P> +"Where are the Indians?" panted DeWitt, running along beside her. +"What were those shots?" +</P> + +<P> +"Billy Porter found our camp. He shot Alchise and Injun Tom and he and +Kut-le were wrestling as I ran." Then Rhoda hesitated. "Perhaps you +ought to go back and help Billy!" +</P> + +<P> +But John pulled her ahead. +</P> + +<P> +"Leave you until I get you to safety? Why, Billy himself would half +murder me if I thought of it! Our camp is over there, a three hours' +trip." DeWitt pointed to a distant peak. "If we swing around to the +left, the Indians won't see us!" +</P> + +<P> +Hand in hand the two settled to a swinging trot. The dreadful fear of +pursuit was on them both. It submerged their first joy of meeting, and +left them panic-stricken. For many minutes they ran without speaking. +At last, when well out into the burning heat of the desert, they could +keep up the pace no longer and dropped to a rapid walk. Still there +came no sound of pursuit. +</P> + +<P> +"Was Porter hurt?" panted John. +</P> + +<P> +"Not when I left," answered Rhoda. +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder what his plan is?" said John. "He left the camp yesterday to +trail Injun Tom. We'll go back for him as quick as I can get you to +camp." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda looked up at DeWitt anxiously. +</P> + +<P> +"You are very tired and worn, John," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"And you!" cried the man, looking down at the girl with the swinging, +tireless stride. "What miracle has come to you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I never dreamed that there could be health like this! I—" She +stopped, with head to one side. "Do you hear anything? What do you +suppose they are doing to each other? Oh, I hope neither of them will +get killed!" +</P> + +<P> +"I hope— They have all promised to let me deal with Kut-le!" said +DeWitt grimly, pausing to listen intently. But no sound came across +the burning sands. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda started at DeWitt's words. Suddenly her early sense of the +appalling nature of her experience returned to her. She looked with +new eyes at DeWitt's face. It was not the same face that she had last +seen at the Newman ranch. John had the look of a man who has passed +through the fire of tragedy. She gripped his burned fingers with both +her slender hands. +</P> + +<P> +"O John!" she cried, "I wasn't worth it! I wasn't worth it! Let's get +to the camp quickly, so that you can rest! It would take a lifetime of +devotion to make up for that look in your face!" +</P> + +<P> +John's quiet manner left him. +</P> + +<P> +"It was a devilish thing for him to do!" he said fiercely. "Heaven +help him when I get him!" Then before Rhoda could speak he smiled +grimly. "This pace is fearful. If you keep it up you will have +sunstroke, Rhoda. And at that, you're standing it better than I!" +</P> + +<P> +They slowed their pace. DeWitt was breathing hard as the burning lava +dust bit into his throat. +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't minded the physical discomfort," he went on. "It's the +mental torture that's been killing me. We've pushed hot on your trail +hour after hour, day in and day out. When they made me rest, I could +only lie and listen to you sob for help until—O my love! My love!—" +</P> + +<P> +His voice broke and Rhoda laid her cheek against his arm for a moment. +</P> + +<P> +"I know! O John dear, I know!" she whispered. +</P> + +<P> +They trudged on in silence for a time, both listening for the sound of +pursuit. Then DeWitt spoke, as if he forced himself to ask for an +answer that he dreaded. +</P> + +<P> +"Rhoda, did they torture you much?" +</P> + +<P> +"No! There was no torture except that of fearful hardships. At +first—you know how weak and sick I was, John—at first I just lived in +an agony of fear and anger—sort of a nightmare of exhaustion and +frenzy. Then at Chira I began to get strong and as my health came, the +wonder of it, the—oh, I can't put it into words; Kut-le was—" Rhoda +paused, wondering at the reluctance with which she spoke the young +Indian's name. "You missed us so narrowly so many times!" +</P> + +<P> +"The Indian had the devil's own luck and we always blundered," said +DeWitt. "I have had the feeling lately that my bones would be +bleaching on this stretch of Hades before you ever were heard of. +Rhoda, if I can get you safely to New York again I'll shoot the first +man who says desert to me!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda became strangely silent, though she clung to John's hand and now +and again lifted it against her cheek. The yellow of the desert reeled +in heat waves about them. The deep, intensely deep blue of the sky +glowed silently down on them. Never to see them again! Never to waken +with the desert stars above her face or to make camp with the crimson +dawn blinding her vision! Never to know again the wild thrill of the +chase! Finally Rhoda gave herself a mental shake and looked up into +John's tired face. +</P> + +<P> +"How did you come to leave the camp, John?" she asked gently. +</P> + +<P> +"It's all been luck," said John. "With the exception of a little trail +wisdom that Billy or Carlos raked up once in a while it's just been +hit-or-miss luck with us. We suspected that Billy had gone on Injun +Tom's trail, so we made camp on the spot so he wouldn't lose us. I +stood guard this morning while Jack and Carlos slept and then I thought +that that was fool nonsense, as Kut-le never traveled by day. So I +started on a hunt along Billy's trail—and here we are!" +</P> + +<P> +"Are there any other people hunting for me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Lord, yes! At first they were fairly walking over each other. But +the ranchers had to go back to their work and the curious got tired. +Most of those that are left are down along the Mexican border. They +thought of course that Kut-le would get off American territory as soon +as he could. Must we keep such a pace, Rhoda girl? You will be half +dead before we can reach the camp!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"I've followed Kut-le's tremendous pace so many miles that I doubt if I +shall ever walk like a perfect lady again!" +</P> + +<P> +"I thought that I would go off my head," DeWitt went on, dropping into +a walk, "when I saw you there at Dead Man's Mesa and you escaped into +that infernal crevice! Gee, Rhoda, I can't believe that this really is +you!" +</P> + +<P> +The sun was setting as they climbed through a wide stretch of +greasewood to the first rough rock heaps of the mountains. Then DeWitt +paused uncertainly. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, this isn't right! I never was here before!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda spoke cheerfully. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps you have the right mountain but the wrong trail!" +</P> + +<P> +"No! This is altogether wrong. I remember this peak now, with a sort +of saw edge to the top. What a chump I am! I distinctly remember +seeing this mountain from the trail this morning." +</P> + +<P> +"How did it lie?" asked Rhoda, sitting down on a convenient stone. +</P> + +<P> +"Gee, I can't remember whether to the right or left!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda clasped and unclasped her hands nervously. +</P> + +<P> +"I hate to stop. One can't tell what Kut-le is up to!" +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt squared his broad shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you worry, little girl. If he does find us he'll have to take +us both! We'll just have to rest here for a moment. There's no use +starting till we have our sense of direction again." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda raised her eyebrows. After all the fearful lessons, DeWitt had +not yet come to a full realization of the skill and resourcefulness of +Kut-le. The girl said nothing, however, but left the leadership to +DeWitt. The sun was setting, turning to clear red and pale lavender a +distant peak that then merged with the dusk, one could not tell when +nor how. Rhoda and DeWitt sat at the foot of an inhospitable crag +whose distant top, baring itself to the heavens, was a fearful climb +above them. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda watched the sunset a little wistfully. She must impress on her +memory every one that she saw now. She felt that her days in the +desert were numbered. +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt shook his empty canteen. +</P> + +<P> +"It was mighty clever of you to bring a canteen. We've got to be +careful of the water question. Of course, I'm confident we will reach +camp this evening, but you can't be too careful of water anyhow. Lord! +Think of Jack Newman's face when we come strolling in! We ought to be +back at the ranch in five days." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know it's going to be strange to talk with Katherine!" +exclaimed Rhoda. "She's a white woman, you know!" +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt took both of Rhoda's brown little hands in his. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not appearing very sympathetic, sweetheart," he said. "But I'm so +crazy with joy at having you again and of finding you so well that I +don't know what I'm saying." +</P> + +<P> +"John," said Rhoda slowly, "I don't need any sympathy! I tell you that +this has been the most wonderful experience that ever came into my +life. I have suffered!" Her voice trembled and John's hold on her +hands tightened. "God only knows how I have suffered! But I have +learned things that were worth the misery!" +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt looked at her wide-eyed. +</P> + +<P> +"You're a wonder!" he exclaimed. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda laughed softly. +</P> + +<P> +"You ought to hear the Indians' opinion of me! Do you know what I've +thought of lots of times lately? You know that place on the Hudson +where men go when they are nervous wrecks and the doctor cures them by +grilling them mentally and physically clear beyond endurance? Well, +that's the sort of cure I've had, except that I've had two doctors, the +Indian and the desert!" +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt answered slowly. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't quite see it! But I know one thing. You are about the gamest +little thoroughbred I ever heard of!" +</P> + +<P> +The moon was rising and DeWitt watched Rhoda as she sat with her hands +clasping her knee in the boyish attitude that had become a habit. +</P> + +<P> +"You are simply fascinating in those clothes, Rhoda. You are like a +beautiful slender boy in them." +</P> + +<P> +"They are very comfortable," said Rhoda, in such a sedate +matter-of-fact tone despite her blush that DeWitt chuckled. He threw +his arm across her shoulder and hugged her to him ecstatically. +</P> + +<P> +"Rhoda! Rhoda! You are the finest ever! I can't believe that this +terrible nightmare is over! And to think that instead of finding you +all but dead, you are a thousand times more fit than I am myself. +Rhoda, just think! You are going to live! To live! You will not be +my wife just for a few months, as we thought, but for years and years!" +</P> + +<P> +They stood in silence for a time, each one busy with the picture +DeWitt's words had conjured. Then DeWitt emptied the pipe he had been +smoking. +</P> + +<P> +"Yonder is our peak, by Jove! It looked just so in the moonlight last +night. I didn't recognize it by daylight. If you're rested, we'll +start now. You must be dead hungry! I know I am!" +</P> + +<P> +Refreshed and hopeful, they swung out into the wonder of the moonlit +desert. They soon settled to each other's pace and with the full moon +glowing in their faces they made for the distant peak. +</P> + +<P> +"Now," said John, "tell me the whole story!" +</P> + +<P> +So Rhoda, beginning with the moment of her abduction, told the story of +her wanderings, told it simply though omitting no detail. Nothing +could have been more dramatic than the quiet voice that now rose, now +fell with intensity of feeling. DeWitt did not interrupt her except +with a muttered exclamation now and again. +</P> + +<P> +"And the actual sickness was not the worst," Rhoda continued after +describing her experiences up to her sickness at Chira; "it was the +delirium of fear and anger. Kut-le forced me beyond the limit of my +strength. Night after night I was tied to the saddle and kept there +till I fainted. Then I was rested only enough to start again. And it +angered and frightened me so! I was so sick! I loathed them all +so—except Molly. But after Chira a change came. I got stronger than +I ever dreamed of being. And I began to understand Kut-le's methods. +He had realized that physically and mentally I was at the lowest ebb +and that only heroic measures could save me. He had the courage to +apply the measures." +</P> + +<P> +"God!" muttered John. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda scarcely heeded him. +</P> + +<P> +"It was then that I began to see things that I could not see before and +to think thoughts that I could not have thought before. It was as if I +had climbed a mental peak that made my old highest ideals seem like +mere foothills!" +</P> + +<P> +The quiet voice led on and on, stopping at last with Porter's advent +that afternoon. Then Rhoda looked up into DeWitt's face. It was drawn +and tense. His eyes were black with feeling and his close-pressed lips +twitched. +</P> + +<P> +"Rhoda," he said at last, "I thought most of the savage had been +civilized out of me. But I tell you now that if ever I get a chance I +shall kill that Apache with my bare hands!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda laid her hand on DeWitt's arm. +</P> + +<P> +"Kut-le, after all, has done me only a great good, John!" +</P> + +<P> +"But think how he did it! The devil risked killing you! Think what +you and we all have suffered! God, Rhoda, think!" And DeWitt threw +his arm across his face with a sob that wrenched his shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +Inexpressibly touched, Rhoda stopped and drew John's face down to hers, +rubbing it softly with her velvet cheek. +</P> + +<P> +"There, dear, there! I can't bear to see you so! My poor tired boy! +You have all but killed yourself for me!" +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt lifted the slender little figure and held it tensely in his arms +a moment, then set her gently down. +</P> + +<P> +"A woman's magnanimity is a strange thing," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Kut-le will suffer," said Rhoda. "He risked everything and has lost. +He has neither friends nor country now." +</P> + +<P> +"Much he cares," retorted DeWitt, "except for losing you!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda made no answer. She realized that it would take careful pleading +on her part to win freedom for Kut-le if ever he were caught. She +changed the subject. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you found living off the desert hard? I mean as far as food was +concerned?" +</P> + +<P> +"Food hasn't bothered us," answered John. "We've kept well supplied." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda chuckled. +</P> + +<P> +"Then I can't tempt you to stop and have some roast mice with me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you," answered DeWitt. "Try and control your yearning for them, +honey girl. We shall be at camp shortly and have some white man's +grub." +</P> + +<P> +"How long since you have eaten, John?" asked Rhoda. She had been +watching the tall fellow's difficult and slacking steps for some time. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, not since last night, to tell the truth. You see I was so +excited when I struck Porter's trail that I didn't go back to the camp. +I just hiked." +</P> + +<P> +"So you are faint with hunger," said Rhoda, "and your feet are +blistered, for you have done little tramping in the hot sand before +this. John, look at that peak! Are you sure it is the right one?" +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt stared long and perplexedly. +</P> + +<P> +"Rhoda girl," he said, "I don't believe it is, after all. I am the +blamedest tenderfoot! But don't you worry. We will find the camp. +It's right in this neighborhood." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap17"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE HEART'S OWN BITTERNESS +</H3> + + +<P> +"I'm not worrying," answered Rhoda stoutly, "except about you. You are +shaking with exhaustion while I am as fit as can be." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, don't bother about me!" exclaimed John. "I'm just a little tired." +</P> + +<P> +But Rhoda was not to be put off. +</P> + +<P> +"How much did you sleep last night?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not much," admitted DeWitt. "I haven't been a heavy sleeper at times +ever since you disappeared, strange as that may seem!" Then he +grinned. It was pleasant to have Rhoda bully him. +</P> + +<P> +Yet the big fellow actually was sinking with weariness. The fearful +hardships that he had undergone had worked havoc with him. Now that +the agonizing nerve-strain was lifted he was going to pieces. He stood +wavering for a minute, then he slowly sat down in the sand. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda stood beside him uncertainly and looked from the man to the +immovably distant mountain peak. She realized that, in stopping, the +risk of recapture was great, yet her desert experiences told her that +John must regain some of his strength before the sun caught them. She +had little faith that they would tumble upon the camp as easily as John +thought, and wanted to prepare for a day of desert heat. +</P> + +<P> +"If we were sure just where the camp lay," she said, "I would go on for +help. But as we aren't certain, I'm afraid to be separated from you, +John." +</P> + +<P> +John looked up fiercely with his haggard eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you dare to move six inches from me, Rhoda. It will kill me to +lose you now." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course I won't," said Rhoda. "I've had my lesson about losing +myself in the desert. But you must have some sleep before we go any +farther." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda spoke with a cheerfulness she did not feel. She looked about for +a comfortable resting-place but the desert was barren. +</P> + +<P> +"There's no use trying to find a comfortable bed," she said. "You had +better lie down right where you are." +</P> + +<P> +"Honey," said John, "I've no idea of sleeping. It will be time enough +for that when we reach camp. But if you think you could stand guard +for just ten minutes I will lie flat in the sand and rest. You take my +watch and time me." +</P> + +<P> +"That's splendid!" said Rhoda, helping him to clear of rocks and cactus +a space long enough to lie in. +</P> + +<P> +"Just ten minutes," said DeWitt, and as he spoke he sank to sleep. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda stood in the moonlight looking into the man's unconscious face. +His new-grown beard gave him a haggard look that was enhanced by the +dark circles under his eyes. That wan face touched Rhoda much more +than the healthy face of former days. The lines of weariness and pain +that never could be fully erased were all for her, she thought with a +little catch of her breath. Then with a pitying, affectionate look at +the sleeping man came a whimsical smile. Once she had thought no one +could equal John in physical vigor. Now she pictured Kut-le's panther +strength and endurance, and smiled. +</P> + +<P> +She looked at the watch. Five hours till dawn. She would let John +have the whole of that time in which to sleep. His ten minutes would +be worse than useless, while to find the camp after the moon had set +would be quite out of the question. Her own eyes were wide and +sleepless. She sat in the sand beside DeWitt until driven by the cold +to pace back and forth. John slept without stirring; the sleep of +complete exhaustion. Rhoda was not afraid, nor did she feel lonely. +The desert was hers now. There was no wind, but now and again the +cactus rustled as if unseen wings had brushed it. The dried heaps of +cholla stirred as if unseen paws had pressed them. From afar came the +demoniacal laughter of coyotes on their night hunts. But still Rhoda +was not afraid. +</P> + +<P> +At first, in the confusion of thoughts that the day's events had +crowded on her, her clearest sense was of thankfulness. Then she fell +to wondering what had happened to Porter and Kut-le. Suddenly she +caught her breath with a shiver. If Porter won there could be but one +answer as to Kut-le's fate. John's attitude of mind told that. Rhoda +twisted her hands together. +</P> + +<P> +"I will not have him killed!" she whispered. "No! No! I will not +have him killed!" +</P> + +<P> +For many minutes she paced back and forth, battling with her fears. +Then she suddenly recalled the fact that vengeance was to be saved for +John. This uncanny thought comforted her. She had little fear but +that she could manage John. +</P> + +<P> +And then in the utter silence of the desert night, staring at the +sinking moon, Rhoda asked herself why, when she should have been mad +with joy over her own rescue, she was giving all her thoughts to +Kut-le's plight! For a moment the question brought a flood of +confusion. Then, standing alone in the night beauty of the desert, the +girl acknowledged the truth that she had denied even to herself so +long. The young Indian's image returned to her endowed with all the +dignity of his remarkable physical perfection. She knew now that from +the first this physical beauty of his had had a strong appeal to her. +She knew now that all his unusual characteristics that at first had +seemed so strange to her were the ones that had drawn her to him. His +strange mental honesty, his courage, his brutal incisiveness, all had +fascinated her. All her days with him returned to her, days of +weakness, of anger, then the weeks on the ledge, and the day when she +had found the desert, and finally the day just past, to the very moment +when Billy Porter had come upon them on the ledge. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda stood with unseeing eyes while before her inward vision passed a +magnificent panorama of the glories through which Kut-le had led her. +Chaos of mountain and desert, resplendent with color; cool, sweet depth +of cañon; burning height of tortured peak; slope of pungent piñon +forest—all wrapped in the haze which is the desert's own. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda knew the truth; knew that she loved Kut-le! She knew that she +loved him with all the passionate devotion for which her rebirth had +given her the capacity. +</P> + +<P> +With this acknowledgment, all her calm was swept away. With fingers +clasped against her breast, with wide eyes on the brooding night, she +wished that she might tell him this that had come to her. If only once +more the inscrutable tenderness of his black eyes were upon her! If +the deep imperative voice were but sounding in her ears again! If only +she could feel now the touch of his powerful arms as he carried her the +long sick miles to Chira. Trembling with longing, her gaze fell upon +the man sleeping at her feet. She drew a sudden troubled breath. Must +she renounce this new rapture of living? Must she? +</P> + +<P> +"Have I found new life in the desert only to lose it?" she whispered. +"O Kut-le! Kut-le!" +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt slept on, unmoving, and Rhoda watched him with tragedy-stricken +eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"What shall I do!" she whispered, lips quivering, shaking hands +twisting together. "Oh, what shall I do!" +</P> + +<P> +She tried to picture a future with Kut-le. She saw his tenderness, his +purposefulness, the bigness of his mind and spirit. Then with a cold +clutch at her throat came the thought of race barrier, and in a moment +Rhoda was plunged into the oldest, the most hopeless, the least +solvable of all love's problems. Minute after minute went by and the +girl, standing by the sleeping man, fought a fight that shook her +slender body and racked her soul. At last she raised her face to the +sky. +</P> + +<P> +"I want to do what is right!" she said piteously. "It doesn't matter +about me, if only I can decide what is right!" Then after, a pause, "I +will marry John! I will!" like a child that has been punished and +promises to be good. Still another pause, then, "So that part of me is +dead!" and she put her fingers before her eyes and fell to crying, not +with the easy tears of a woman but with the deep, agonizing sobs of a +man over his dead. +</P> + +<P> +"Kut-le, I wanted you! I wanted you for my mate! If I could have +heard you, seen you, felt you once more! Nothing else would have +mattered. I wanted you!" +</P> + +<P> +A long hour passed in which Rhoda sat in the sand, limp and quiescent, +as though all but wrecked by the storm through which she had passed. +Dawn came at last. The air was pregnant with new hope, with a vague +uplifting of sense and being that told of the coming of a new day. The +east quivered with prismatic colors and suddenly the sun appeared. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda rose and stooped over DeWitt to smooth the hair back from his +forehead. +</P> + +<P> +"Come," she said softly. "It's breakfast time!" +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt sat up bewildered. Then his senses returned. +</P> + +<P> +"Rhoda," he exclaimed, "what do you mean by this!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda's smile was a little wan. +</P> + +<P> +"You needed the rest and I didn't!" +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt rose and shook himself like a great dog, then looked at Rhoda +wonderingly. +</P> + +<P> +"And you don't look much done up! But you had no right to do such a +thing! I told you to give me ten minutes. I feel like a brute. Lie +down now and get a little sleep yourself." +</P> + +<P> +"Lie in the sun? Thank you, I'd rather push on to the camp and have +some breakfast. How do you feel?" +</P> + +<P> +"Much better! It was fine of you, dear, but it wasn't a fair deal." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll be good from now on!" said Rhoda meekly. "What would you like +for breakfast?" +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt looked about him. Already the desert was assuming its brazen +aspect. +</P> + +<P> +"Water will be enough for me," he answered, "and nothing else. I am +seriously considering a rigid diet for a time." +</P> + +<P> +They both drank sparingly of the water in Rhoda's canteen. +</P> + +<P> +"I have three shots in my Colt," said DeWitt, "but I want to save them +for an emergency. But if we don't strike camp pretty soon, I'll try to +pot a jack-rabbit." +</P> + +<P> +"We can eat desert mice," said Rhoda. "I know how to catch and cook +them!" +</P> + +<P> +"Heaven forbid!" ejaculated DeWitt. "Let's start on at once, if you're +not too tired." +</P> + +<P> +So they began the day cheerfully. As the morning wore on and they +found no trace of the camp, they began to watch the canteen carefully. +Gradually their thirst became so great that the desire for food was +quite secondary to it and they made no attempt to hunt for a rabbit. +They agreed toward noon to save the last few drops in the canteen until +they could no longer do without it. +</P> + +<P> +Hour after hour they toiled in the blinding heat, the strange deep blue +of the sky reflecting the brazen light of the desert. In their careful +avoiding of the mountain where they had rested at sunset the night +before, they gradually worked out into a wide barren space with dunes +and rock heaps interchanging. +</P> + +<P> +"This won't do at all," said Dewitt at last, wearily. "We had better +try for any old mountain at all in the hope of finding water." +</P> + +<P> +They stood panting, staring at the distant haze of a peak. Trackless +and tortuous, the way underfoot was incredibly difficult. Yet the +distances melted in ephemeral slopes as lovely in their tints as they +were accursed in their reality of cruelty. Rhoda, unaccustomed to day +travel, panted and gasped as they walked. But she held her own fairly +well, while DeWitt, sick and overstrained at the start, was failing +rapidly. +</P> + +<P> +"It's noon now," said John a little thickly. "You had better lie in +the shade of that rock for an hour." +</P> + +<P> +"You sleep too!" pleaded Rhoda. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm too hot to sleep. I'll wake you in an hour." +</P> + +<P> +When Rhoda awoke it was to see DeWitt leaning against the rock heap, +his lips swollen, his eyes uncertain. +</P> + +<P> +Weak and dizzy herself, she rose and laid her hand on John's, every +maternal instinct in her stirring and speaking in her gray eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Come, dear boy, we mustn't give up so easily." +</P> + +<P> +John lifted the little hand to his cheek. +</P> + +<P> +"I won't give up," he said uncertainly. "I'll take care of you, honey +girl!" +</P> + +<P> +"Come on, then!" said Rhoda. "You see that queer bunch of cholla +yonder? Let's get as far as that before we stop again!" +</P> + +<P> +With a great effort, DeWitt gathered himself together and, fixing his +eyes on the fantastic cactus growth, he plodded desperately through the +sand. At the cholla bunch, Rhoda pointed to a jutting lavender rock. +</P> + +<P> +"At that we'll rest for a minute. Come on, John!" +</P> + +<P> +John's sick eyes did not waver but his trembling legs described many +circles in their journey to the jutting rock. Distances were so many +times what they seemed that Rhoda's little scheme carried them over a +mile of desert before DeWitt sank to his knees. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm a sick man," he said huskily as he fell in a limp heap. +</P> + +<P> +Nothing could have appeared more opportunely than this new hardship to +take Rhoda's mind off her misery of the night. Nothing could have +brought John so near to her as this utter helplessness brought about +through his toiling for her. She looked at him with tears of pity in +her eyes, while her heart sank with fright. She knew the terrible +danger that menaced them. But she closed her lips firmly and looked +thoughtfully at the mite of water that remained to them. Then she held +the canteen to DeWitt's lips. He pushed it away from him and in +another moment or so he rose. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda, fastening their hopes to another distant cholla, led the way on +again. But she too was growing a little light-headed. The distant +cactus danced grotesquely and black spots flitted between her and the +molten iron over which, her fancy said they traveled. Suddenly she +laughed crazily: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"'Twas brillig, and the slythy toves<BR> +Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;<BR> +All mimsy were the borogoves,<BR> +And the mome raths outgrabe!" +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt laughed hoarsely. +</P> + +<P> +"That's just the way it looks to me, Rhoda. But you're just as crazy +as I am." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda jerked herself together and tried to moisten her lips with her +swollen tongue. +</P> + +<P> +"We must take it turn about. When you are crazy I must try to be sane!" +</P> + +<P> +"Good idea!" croaked DeWitt, "only I'm crazy all the time!" +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"'O frabjous day! Calloo! Collay!<BR> +He chortled in his joy!'" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda patted his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Poor John! Oh, my poor John! I was not worth all this. You may not +have an Apache's strength, but your heart is right!" Two great tears +rolled down her cheeks. +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt looked at her seriously. +</P> + +<P> +"You aren't as dry as I am. I haven't enough moisture in me to moisten +my eyeballs, let alone cry! I am so cracked and dry that you will have +to soak me in the first spring we come to before I'll hold water." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda laughed weakly and John turned away with a hurt look. +</P> + +<P> +"It's not a joke!" he said. +</P> + +<P> +How long they were, in their staggering, circuitous course, in reaching +their goal of cholla, Rhoda never knew. She knew that each heavy foot, +tingling and scorched, seemed to drag her back a step for every one +that she took forward. She knew that she repeatedly offered the last +of their water to John and that he repeatedly refused it, urging it on +her. She knew that the pulp of the barrel cactus that she tried to +chew turned to bitter sawdust in her mouth and sickened her. Then +suddenly, as she struggled to refocus her wandering wits on the cholla, +it appeared within touch of her hand. +</P> + +<P> +Afraid to pause, she adopted a new goal in a far mesa, and clutching +DeWitt's unresponsive fingers she struggled forward. +</P> + +<P> +And so on and on toward a never nearing goal; now falling, now rising, +now pausing to strive to hush Dewitt's cracked voice that wandered +aimlessly through all the changes of verse that seemed to his delirium +appropriate to the occasion. It seemed to Rhoda that her own brain was +reeling as she watched the illimitable space through which they moved. +John's voice did not cease. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Alone! Alone! All, all, alone!<BR> +Alone on a wide, wide sea!<BR> +So lonely 'twas that God himself,<BR> +Scarce seemed there to be!" +</P> + +<P> +"Hush, John! Hush!" pleaded Rhoda. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Alone! Alone! All, all alone!" +</P> + +<P> +repeated the croaking voice. +</P> + +<P> +"But I'm with you, John!" Rhoda pleaded, but DeWitt rambled on +unheeding. +</P> + +<P> +The way grew indescribably rough. The desert floor became a series of +sand dunes, a rise and fall of sea-like billows over which they climbed +like ants over a new-plowed field. In the hollow of each wave they +rested, sinking in the sand, where, breathless and scorching, the air +scintillated above their motionless forms. At the crest of each they +rested again, the desert wind hurtling the hot sand against their +parched skins. Frequently John refused to rise and Rhoda in her half +delirium would sink beside him until the mist lifted from her brain and +once more the distant mesa forced itself upon her vision. +</P> + +<P> +"Come, John, we will soon be there. We can't keep on this way forever +and not reach some place. Please come, dear!" +</P> + +<P> +"'He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside +still waters. He restoreth my soul—'" +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps there will be water there! O John, dear John, if you love me, +come!" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't love you, little boy! I love Rhoda Tuttle. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"O for a draught of vintage that hath been<BR> +Cooled a long age in deep delved earth!" +</P> + +<P> +"Please, John! I'm so sick!" +</P> + +<P> +The man, after two or three attempts, staggered to his feet and stood +swaying. +</P> + +<P> +"God help me!" he said. "I can do no more!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, you can, John! Yes, you can! Perhaps there is a whole fountain +of water there on the mesa!" +</P> + +<P> +The glazed look returned to DeWitt's eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"'Or the pitcher be broken at the fountain,'" he muttered, "'or the +wheel broken at the cistern—or the pitcher broken at the fountain, or +the wheel—'" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda threw her arm across her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, not that, John! I can't bear that one!" +</P> + +<P> +Again, she stood upon the roof at Chira, looking up into Kut-le's face. +Again the low wailing of the Indian women and the indescribable depth +and hunger of those dear black eyes. Again the sense of protection and +content in his nearness. +</P> + +<P> +"O Kut-le! Kut-le!" she moaned. +</P> + +<P> +Instantly sanity returned to John's eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Why did you say Kut-le?" he demanded thickly. +</P> + +<P> +"Were you thinking of him?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," answered Rhoda simply. "Come on, John!" +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt struggled on bravely to the crest of the next dune. +</P> + +<P> +"I hate that Apache devil!" he muttered. "I am going to kill him!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda quickly saw the magic of Kut-le's name. +</P> + +<P> +"Why should you want to kill Kut-le?" she asked as Dewitt paused at the +top of the next dune. Instantly he started on. +</P> + +<P> +"Because I hate him! I hate him, the devil!" +</P> + +<P> +"See how near the mesa is, John! Only a little way! Kut-le would say +we were poor stuff!" +</P> + +<P> +"No doubt! Well, I'll let a gun give him my opinion of him!" +</P> + +<P> +The sand dunes had indeed beaten themselves out against the wall of a +giant mesa. Rhoda followed blindly along the wall and stumbled upon a +precipitous trail leading upward. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap18"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE FORGOTTEN CITY +</H3> + + +<P> +Up this tortuous trail Rhoda staggered, closely followed by DeWitt. At +a level spot the girl paused. +</P> + +<P> +"Water, John! Water!" she cried. +</P> + +<P> +The two threw themselves down and drank of the bubbling spring until +they could hold no more. Then Rhoda lay down on the sun-warmed rocks +and sleep overwhelmed her. +</P> + +<P> +She opened her eyes to stare into a yellow moon that floated liquidly +above her. Whether she had slept through a night and a day or whether +but a few hours had elapsed since she had staggered to the spring +beside which she lay, she could not tell. She lay looking up into the +sky languidly, but with clear mind. A deep sigh roused her. DeWitt +sat on the other side of the spring, rubbing his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello!" he said in a hoarse croak. "How did we land here?" +</P> + +<P> +"I led us here sometime in past ages. When or how, <I>quién sabe</I>?" +answered Rhoda. "John, we must find food somehow." +</P> + +<P> +"Drink all the water you can, Rhoda." said DeWitt; "it helps some, and +I'll pot a rabbit. What a fool I am. You poor girl! More hardships +for you!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda dipped her burning face into the water, then lifted it, dripping. +</P> + +<P> +"If only you won't be delirious, John, I can stand the hardships." +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt looked at the girl curiously. +</P> + +<P> +"Was I delirious? And you were alone, leading me across that Hades out +there? Rhoda dear, you make me ashamed of myself!" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't see how you were to blame," answered Rhoda stoutly. "Think +what you have been doing for me!" +</P> + +<P> +John rose stiffly. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you feel equal to climbing this trail with me, to find where we +are, or had you rather stay here?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't want to stay here alone," answered Rhoda. +</P> + +<P> +Very slowly and weakly they started up the trail. The spring was on a +broad stone terrace. Above it rose another terrace weathered and +disrupted until in the moonlight it looked like an impregnable castle +wall, embattled and embuttressed. But clinging to the seemingly +invulnerable fortress was the trail, a snake-like shadow in the +moonlight. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps we had better stay at the spring until morning," suggested +Rhoda, her weak legs flagging. +</P> + +<P> +"Not with the hope of shelter a hundred feet above us," answered John +firmly. "This trail is worn six inches into the solid rock. My guess +is that there are some inhabitants here. It's queer that they haven't +discovered us." +</P> + +<P> +Slowly and without further protest, Rhoda followed DeWitt up the trail. +Deep-worn and smooth though it was, they accomplished their task with +infinite difficulty. Rhoda, stumbling like a sleep-sodden child, +wondered if ever again she was to accomplish physical feats with the +magical ease with which Kut-le had endowed her. +</P> + +<P> +"If he were here, I'd know I was to tumble into a comfortable camp," +she thought. Then with a remorseful glance at DeWitt's patient back, +"What a selfish beast you are, Rhoda Tuttle!" +</P> + +<P> +She reached John's side and together they paused at the top of the +trail. Black against the sky, the moon crowning its top with a +frost-like radiance, was a huge flat-topped building. Night birds +circled about it. From black openings in its front owls hooted. But +otherwise there was neither sight nor sound of living thing. The +desert far below and beyond lay like a sea of death. Rhoda +unconsciously drew nearer to DeWitt. +</P> + +<P> +"Where are the dogs? At Chira the dogs barked all night. Indians +always have dogs!" +</P> + +<P> +"It must be very late," whispered DeWitt. "Even the dogs are asleep!" +</P> + +<P> +"And at Chira," went on Rhoda, whispering as did DeWitt, "owls didn't +hoot from the windows." +</P> + +<P> +"Let's go closer," suggested John. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda thrust cold little fingers into his hand. +</P> + +<P> +The doors were empty and forlorn. The terraced walls, built with the +patient labor of the long ago, were sagged and decayed. Riot of +greasewood crowned great heaps of débris. A loneliness as of the end +of the world came upon the two wanderers. Sick and dismayed, they +stood in awe before this relic of the past. +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Whoo</I>! <I>Whoo</I>!" an owl's cry sounded from the black window openings. +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt spoke softly. +</P> + +<P> +"Rhoda, it's one of the forgotten cities!" +</P> + +<P> +"Let's go back! Let's go back to the spring!" pleaded Rhoda. "It is +so uncanny in the dark!" +</P> + +<P> +"No!" DeWitt rubbed his aching head wearily. "I must contrive some +sort of shelter for you. Almost anything is better than another night +in the open desert. Come on! We will explore a little." +</P> + +<P> +"Let's wait till morning," begged Rhoda. "I'm so cold and shivery." +</P> + +<P> +"Dear sweetheart, that's just the point. You will be sick if you don't +have some sort of shelter. You have suffered enough. Will you sit +here and let me look about?" +</P> + +<P> +"No! No! I don't want to be left alone." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda followed John closely up into the mass of fallen rock. +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt smiled. It appealed to the tenderest part of his nature that +the girl who had led him through the terrible experiences of the desert +should show fear now that a haven was reached. +</P> + +<P> +"Come on, little girl," he said. +</P> + +<P> +Painfully, for they both were weak and dizzy, they clambered to a gaunt +opening in the gray wall. Rhoda clutched John's arm with a little +scream as a bat whirred close by them. Within the opening DeWitt +scratched one of his carefully hoarded matches. The tiny flare +revealed a small adobe-walled room, quite bare save for broken bits of +pottery on the floor. John lighted a handful of greasewood and by its +brilliant light they examined the floor and walls. +</P> + +<P> +"What a clean, dry little room!" exclaimed Rhoda. "Oh, I am so tired +and sleepy!" +</P> + +<P> +"Let's look a little farther before we stop. What's on the other side +of this broken wall?" +</P> + +<P> +They picked their way across the litter of pottery and peered into +another room, the duplicate of the first. +</P> + +<P> +"How will these do for our respective sleeping-rooms?" asked DeWitt. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda stared at John with horror in her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd as soon sleep in a tomb! Let's make a fire outside and sleep +under the stars. I'd rather have sleep than food just now." +</P> + +<P> +"It will have to be just a tiny smudge, up behind this débris, where +Kut-le can't spot it," answered DeWitt. "I won't mind having a red eye +of fire for company. It will help to keep me awake." +</P> + +<P> +"But you must sleep," protested Rhoda. +</P> + +<P> +"But I mustn't," answered John grimly. "I've played the baby act on +this picnic as much as I propose to. It is my trick at the wheel." +</P> + +<P> +Too weary to protest further, Rhoda threw herself down with her feet +toward the fire and pillowed her head on her arm. DeWitt filled his +pipe and sat puffing it, with his arms folded across his knees. Rhoda +watched him for a moment or two. She found herself admiring the full +forehead, the lines of refinement about the lips that the beard could +not fully conceal. +</P> + +<P> +"He's not as handsome as Kut-le," she thought wearily, "but +he's—he's—" but before her thought was completed she was asleep. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda woke at dawn and lay waiting for the stir of the squaws about the +morning meal. Then with a start she rose and looked soberly about her. +Suddenly she smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"Tenderfoot!" she murmured. +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt lay fast asleep by the ashes of the fire. +</P> + +<P> +"If Kut-le," she thought. Then she stopped abruptly and stamped her +foot. "You are not even to think of Kut-le any more!" And with her +cleft chin very firm she descended the trail to the spring. When she +returned, DeWitt was rising stiffly to his feet. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello!" he cried. "I was good this time. I never closed my eyes till +dawn. I'm so hungry I could eat greasewood. How do you feel?" +</P> + +<P> +"Weak with hunger but otherwise very well. Go wash your face, Johnny." +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt grinned and started down the trail obediently. But Rhoda laid a +detaining hand on his arm. The sun was but a moment high. All the +mesa front lay in purple shadows, though farther out the desert glowed +with the yellow light of a new day. +</P> + +<P> +"I think animals come to the spring to drink," said Rhoda. "There were +tiny wet footmarks there when I went down to wash my face." +</P> + +<P> +"Bully!" exclaimed John. "Wait now, let's watch." +</P> + +<P> +The two dropped to the ground and peered over the edge of the upper +terrace. The spring bubbled forth serenely, followed its shallow +trough a short distance, then disappeared into the insatiable floor of +the desert. For several moments the two lay watching until at last +Rhoda grew restless. DeWitt laid a detaining hand on her arm. +</P> + +<P> +"Hush!" he whispered. +</P> + +<P> +A pair of jack-rabbits loped up the trail, sniffed the air tentatively, +then with forelegs in the water drank greedily. DeWitt's right arm +stiffened, there were two puffs of smoke and the two kicking rabbits +rolled into the spring. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm beginning to have a little self-respect as the man of the party," +said DeWitt, as he blew the smoke from his Colt. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda ran down to the spring and lifted the two wet little bodies. +John took them from her. +</P> + +<P> +"If you'll find some place for a table, I'll bring these up in no time." +</P> + +<P> +When DeWitt came up from the spring with the dressed rabbits, he found +a little fire glowing between two rocks. Near by on a big flat-topped +stone were set forth two earthen bowls, with a brown water-jar in the +center. As he stared, Rhoda came out of the building with interested +face. +</P> + +<P> +"Look, John! See what I found on a little corner shelf!" She held in +her outstretched hand a tiny jar no bigger than a wine-glass. It was +of an exquisitely polished black. "Not even an explorer can have been +here, or nothing so perfect as this would have been left! What hands +do you suppose made this!" +</P> + +<P> +But DeWitt did not answer her question. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, look here, Rhoda, you aren't to do anything like starting a fire +and lugging these heavy jars again! You're not with the Indians now. +You've got a man to wait on you!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda looked at him curiously. +</P> + +<P> +"But I've learned to like to do it!" she protested. "Nobody can roast +a rabbit to suit me but myself," and in spite of DeWitt's protests she +spitted the rabbits and would not let him tend the fire which she said +was too fine an art for his untrained hands. In a short time the rich +odor of roasting flesh rose on the air and John watched the pretty cook +with admiration mingled with perplexity. Rhoda insisting on cooking a +meal! More than that, Rhoda evidently enjoying the job! The idea left +him speechless. +</P> + +<P> +An hour after Rhoda had spitted the game, John sighed with contentment +as he looked at the pile of bones beside his earthen bowl. +</P> + +<P> +"And they say jacks aren't good eating!" he said. "Why if they had +been salted they would have been better than any game I ever ate!" +</P> + +<P> +"You never were so hungry before," said Rhoda. "Still, they were well +roasted, now weren't they?" +</P> + +<P> +"Your vanity is colossal, Miss Tuttle," laughed John, "but I will admit +that I never saw better roasting." Then he said soberly, "I believe we +had better not try the trail again today, Rhoda dear. We don't know +where to go and we've no supplies. We'd better get our strength up, +resting here today, and tomorrow start in good shape." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda looked wistfully from the shade of the pueblo out over the +desert. She had become very, very tired of this endless fleeing. +</P> + +<P> +"I wish the Newman ranch was just over beyond," she said. "John, what +will you do if Kut-le comes on us here?" +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt's forehead burned a painful red. +</P> + +<P> +"I have a shot left in my revolver," he said. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda walked ever to John and put one hand on his shoulder as he sat +looking up at her with somber blue eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"John," she said, "I want you to promise me that you will fire at +Kut-le only in the last extremity to keep him from carrying me off, and +that you will shoot only as Porter did, to lame and not to kill." +</P> + +<P> +John's jaws came together and he returned the girl's scrutiny with a +steel-like glance. +</P> + +<P> +"Why do you plead for him?" he asked finally. +</P> + +<P> +"He saved my life," she answered simply. +</P> + +<P> +John rose and walked up and down restlessly. +</P> + +<P> +"Rhoda, if a white man had done this thing I would shoot him as I would +a dog. What do I care for a law in a case like this! We were men long +before we had laws. Why should this Indian be let go when he has done +what a white would be shot for?" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda looked at him keenly. +</P> + +<P> +"You talk as if in your heart you knew you were going to kill him +because he is an Indian and were trying to justify yourself for it!" +</P> + +<P> +He turned on the girl a look so haunted, so miserable, yet so +determined, that her heart sank. For a time there was silence, each +afraid to speak. At last Rhoda said coolly: +</P> + +<P> +"Will you get fresh water while I bank in the fire?" +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt's face relaxed. He smiled a little grimly. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll do anything for you but that one thing—promise not to kill the +Indian." +</P> + +<P> +"The desert has changed us both, John," said Rhoda. "It has taken the +veneer off both of us!" +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe so," replied DeWitt. "I only know that that Apache must pay for +the hell you and I have lived through." +</P> + +<P> +"Look at me, John!" cried Rhoda. "Can't you realize that the good +Kut-le has done me has been far greater than his affront to me? Do you +see how well I am, how strong? Oh, if I could only make you see what a +different world I live in! You would have been tied to an invalid, +John, if Kut-le hadn't stolen me! Think now of all I can do for you! +Of the home I can make, of the work I can do!" +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt answered tersely. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm mighty glad you're well, but only for your own sake and because I +can have you longer. I don't want you to work for me. I'll do all the +working that's done in our family!" +</P> + +<P> +"But," protested Rhoda, "that's just keeping me lazy and selfish!" +</P> + +<P> +"You couldn't be selfish if you tried. You pay your way with your +beauty. When I think of that Apache devil having the joy of you all +this time, watching you grow back to health, taking care of you, +carrying you, it makes me feel like a cave man. I could kill him with +a club! Thank heaven, the lynch law can hold in this forsaken spot! +And there isn't a man in the country but will back me up, not a jury +that would find me guilty!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda sat in utter consternation. The power of the desert to lay bare +the human soul appalled her. This was a DeWitt that the East never +could have shown her. It sickened her as she realized that no words of +hers could sway this man; to realize that she was trying to stay with +her feeble feminine hands passions that were as old a world-force as +love itself. All her new-found strength seemed inadequate to solve +this new problem. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap19"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE TRAIL AGAIN +</H3> + + +<P> +For a long time Rhoda sat silently considering her problem and John +watched her soberly. Finally she turned to speak. As she did so, she +caught on the young man's face a look so weary, so puzzled, so +altogether wretched that the girl's heart smote her. This was indeed a +poor return for what he had endured for her! Rhoda jumped to her feet +with resolution in her eyes. "Are you too tired to explore the ruins?" +she asked. DeWitt rose languidly. Rhoda had responded at once to rest +and food but John would need a month of care and quiet in which to +regain his strength. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll do anything you want me to—in that line!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda carefully ignored the last phrase. +</P> + +<P> +"Even if we're half dead, it's too bad to miss the opportunity to +examine such a wonderful thing as this. You couldn't find as glorious +a setting for a ruin anywhere in Europe." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes, you could; lots of 'em," answered DeWitt. "You can't compare +a ruin like this with anything in Europe. What makes European ruins +appeal to us is not only their intrinsic beauty but the association of +big ideas with them. We know that big thoughts built them and perhaps +destroyed them." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you call big thoughts?" asked Rhoda. "Wasn't it just as great +for these Pueblo Indians to perform such terrible labor in building +this for their families as it was for some old king to work thousands +of slaves to death to build him a monument?" +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"Rhoda, you can love the desert, its Indians and its ruins all you want +to, if you won't ask me to! I've had all I want of the three of them! +Lord, how I hate it all!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda looked at him wistfully. If only he could understand the +spiritual change in her that was even greater than the physical! If +only he could see the beauty of those far lavender hazes! If only he +could understand how even now she was heartsick for the night trail +where one looked up into the sky as into a shadowy opal! If only he +knew the peace that had dwelt with her on the holiday ledge where there +were tints and beauties too deep for words! And yet with the +wistfulness came a strange sense of satisfaction that all this new part +of her must belong forever to Kut-le. +</P> + +<P> +John led the way into the dwelling. All was emptiness and ruin. All +that remained of the old life within its walls were wonderful bits of +pottery. Only once did DeWitt give evidence of pleasure. He was +examining the carefully finished walls of one of the rooms when he +called: +</P> + +<P> +"I say, Rhoda, just look at this bit of humanness!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda came to him quickly and he pointed low down on the adobe wall +where was the perfect imprint of a baby's hand. +</P> + +<P> +"The little rascal got spanked, I'll bet, for putting his hand on the +'dobe before it was dry!" commented John. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda smiled but said nothing. These departed peoples had become very +real and very pitiable to her. +</P> + +<P> +As soon as he could drag Rhoda from the ancient pots, John led the way +to the top of the ruin. He was anxious to find if there were more than +the one trail leading from the desert. To his great satisfaction he +found that the mesa was unscalable except at the point that Rhoda had +found as she staggered up from the desert. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to guard that trail tonight," he said. "It's just possible, +you know, that Kut-le escaped from Porter, though I think if he had he +would have been upon us long before this. I've been mighty careless. +But my brain is so tired it seems to have been off duty. I could hold +that trail single-handed from the upper terrace for a week." +</P> + +<P> +"Just remember," said Rhoda quickly, "that I've asked you not to shoot +to kill!" +</P> + +<P> +Again the hard light gleamed in DeWitt's eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"I shall have a few words with him first, then I shall shoot to kill. +There is that between that Indian and me which a woman evidently can't +understand. I just can't see why you take the stand you do!" +</P> + +<P> +"John dear," cried Rhoda, "put yourself in his place. With all the +race prejudice against you that he had, wouldn't you have done as he +has?" +</P> + +<P> +"Probably," answered Dewitt calmly. "I also would have expected what +he is going to get." +</P> + +<P> +A sudden sense of the bizarre nature of their conversation caused Rhoda +to say comically: +</P> + +<P> +"I never knew that you could have such <I>bloody</I> ideas, John!" +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt was glad to turn the conversation. +</P> + +<P> +"I am so only occasionally," he said. "For instance, instead of +shooting the rabbit for supper, I'm going to try a figure-four trap." +</P> + +<P> +They returned to their little camp on the upper terrace and Rhoda sat +with wistful gray eyes fastened on the desert while John busied himself +with the trap-making. He worked with the skill of his country boyhood +and the trap was cleverly finished. +</P> + +<P> +"It's evident that I'm not the leader of the expedition any more," said +Rhoda, looking at the trap admiringly. +</P> + +<P> +John shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"I've lost my faith in myself as a hero. It's one thing to read of the +desert and think how well you could have managed there, and another +thing to be on the spot!" +</P> + +<P> +The day passed slowly. As night drew on the two on the mesa top grew +more and more anxious. There was little doubt but that they could live +for a number of days at the old pueblo, yet it was evident that the +ruin was far from any traveled trail and that chances of discovery were +slight except by Kut-le. On the other hand, they were absolutely +unprepared for a walking trip across the desert. Troubled and +uncertain what to do, they watched the wonder of the sunset. Deeper, +richer, more divine grew the colors of the desert, and in one supreme, +flaming glory the sun sank from view. +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt with his arm across Rhoda's shoulders spoke anxiously. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you still think we'd better start tomorrow?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," she answered, "I suppose so. What direction shall we take?" +</P> + +<P> +"East," replied DeWitt. "We're bound to strike help if we can keep +going long enough in one direction. We'll cook a good supply of +rabbits and I'll fix up one of those bowl-like ollas with my +handkerchief, so we can carry water in it as well as in the two +canteens. I think you had better sleep in the little room there +tonight and I'll lie across the end of the trail here." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda sighed. +</P> + +<P> +"I've nothing better to suggest. As you say, it's all guesswork!" +</P> + +<P> +They set the rabbit trap by the spring, then Rhoda, quite recovered +from her nervousness of the night before, entered her little +sleeping-room and made ready for the night. The front of the room had +so crumbled away that she could see John's dark form by the trail, and +she lay down with a sense of security and fell asleep at once. +</P> + +<P> +John paced the terrace for a long hour after Rhoda was asleep, trying +to plan every detail for the morrow. He dared not confess even to +himself how utterly disheartened he felt in the face of this terrible +adversary, the desert. Finally, realizing that he must have rest if +Rhoda was not to repeat her previous experience in leading him across +the desert he stretched himself on the ground across the head of the +trail. He must trust to his nervousness to make him sleep lightly. +</P> + +<P> +How long she had slept Rhoda did not know when she was wakened by a +half-muffled oath from DeWitt. She jumped to her feet and ran out to +the terrace. Never while life remained to her was she to forget what +she saw there. DeWitt and Kut-le were wrestling in each other's grip! +Rhoda stood horrified. As the two men twisted about, DeWitt saw the +girl and panted: +</P> + +<P> +"Don't stir, Rhoda! Don't call or you'll have his whole bunch up here!" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't worry about that!" exclaimed Kut-le. "You've been wanting to +get hold of me. Now we'll fight it out bare-handed and the best man +wins." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda looked wildly down the trail, then ran up to the two men. +</P> + +<P> +"Stop!" she screamed. "Stop!" Then as she caught the look in the +men's faces as they glared at each other she cried, "I hate you both, +you beasts!" +</P> + +<P> +Her screams carried far in the night air, for in a moment Cesca came +panting up the trail. She lunged at DeWitt with catlike fury, but at a +sharp word from Kut-le she turned to Rhoda and stood guard beside the +girl. Rhoda stood helplessly watching the battle as one watches the +horrors of a nightmare. +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le and DeWitt now were fighting as two wolves fight. Both the men +were trained wrestlers, but in their fury all their scientific training +was forgotten, and rolling over and over on the rocky trail each fought +for a hold on the other's throat. With Kut-le was the advantage of +perfect condition and superior strength. But DeWitt was fighting for +his stolen mate. He was fighting like a cave man who has brooded for +months on his revenge, and he was a terrible adversary. He had the +sudden strength, the fearful recklessness of a madman. Now rolling on +the edge of the terrace, now high against the crumbling pueblo, the +savage and the civilized creature dragged each other back and forth. +And Rhoda, awed by this display of passions, stood like the First Woman +and waited! +</P> + +<P> +Of a sudden Kut-le disentangled himself and with knees on DeWitt's +shoulders he clutched at the white man's throat. At the same time, +DeWitt gathered together his recumbent body and with a mighty heave he +flung Kut-le over his head. Rhoda gave a little cry, thinking the +fight was ended; but as Kut-le gained his feet, DeWitt sprang to meet +him and the struggle was renewed. Rhoda never had dreamed of a sight +so sickening as this of the two men she knew so well fighting for each +other's throats with the animal's lust for killing. She did not know +what would be Kut-le's course if he gained the mastery, but as she +caught glimpses of DeWitt's face with its clenched teeth and terrible +look of loathing she knew that if his fingers ever reached Kut-le's +throat the Indian could hope for no mercy. +</P> + +<P> +And then she saw DeWitt's face go white and his head drop back. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" she screamed. "You've killed him! You've killed him!" +</P> + +<P> +The Indian's voice came in jerks as he eased DeWitt to the ground. +</P> + +<P> +"He's just fainted. He's put up a tremendous fight for a man in his +condition!" +</P> + +<P> +As he spoke he was tying DeWitt's hands and ankles with his own and +DeWitt's handkerchiefs. Rhoda would have run to DeWitt's aid but +Cesca's hand was tight on her arm. Before the girl could plan any +action, Kut-le had turned to her and had lifted her in his arms. She +fought him wildly. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't leave him so, Kut-le! You will kill all I've learned to feel +for you if you leave him so!" +</P> + +<P> +"He'll be all right!" panted Kut-le, running down the trail. "I've got +Billy Porter down here to leave with him!" +</P> + +<P> +At the foot of the trail were horses. Gagged and bound to his saddle +Billy Porter sat in the moonlight with Molly on guard. Kut-le put +Rhoda on a horse, then quickly thrust Porter to the ground, where the +man sat helplessly. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Billy!" cried Rhoda. "John is on the terrace! Find him! Help +him!" +</P> + +<P> +The last words were spoken as Kut-le turned her horse and led at a trot +into the desert. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap20"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE RUINED MISSION +</H3> + + +<P> +Rhoda was so confused that for a moment she could only ease herself to +the pony's swift canter and wonder if her encounter with DeWitt had +been but a dream after all. A short distance from the pueblo Kut-le +rode in beside her. It was very dark, with the heavy blackness that +just precedes the dawn, but Rhoda felt that the Indian was looking at +her exultingly. +</P> + +<P> +"It seemed as if I never would get Alchise and Injun Tom moved to a +friend's <I>campos</I> so that I could overtake you. I will say that that +fellow Porter is game to the finish. It took me an hour to subdue him! +Now, don't worry about the two of them. With a little work they can +loose themselves and help each other to safety. I saw Newman's trail +ten miles or so over beyond the pueblo mesa and I told Porter just how +to go to pick him up." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda laughed hysterically. +</P> + +<P> +"No wonder you have such a hold on your Indians! You seem never to +fail! I do believe as much of it is luck as ingenuity!" +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le chuckled. +</P> + +<P> +"What a jolt DeWitt will find when he comes to, and finds Porter!" +</P> + +<P> +"You needn't gloat over the situation, Kut-le!" exclaimed Rhoda, half +sobbing in her conflict of emotions. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you mustn't mind anything I say," returned the young Indian. "I +am crazy with joy at just hearing your voice again! Are you really +sorry to be with me again? Did DeWitt mean as much to you as ever? +Tell me, Rhoda! Say just one kindly thing to me!" +</P> + +<P> +"O Kut-le," cried Rhoda, "I can't! I can't! You must help me to be +strong! You—who are the strongest person that I know! Can't you put +yourself in my place and realize what a horrible position I am in?" +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le answered slowly. +</P> + +<P> +"I guess I can realize it. But the end is so great, so much worth +while that nothing before that matters much, to me! Rhoda, isn't this +good—the lift of the horse under your knees—the air rushing past your +face—the weave and twist of the trail—don't they speak to you and +doesn't your heart answer?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," answered Rhoda simply. +</P> + +<P> +The young Indian rode still closer. Dawn was lifting now, and with a +gasp Rhoda saw what she had been too agonized to heed on the terrace in +the moonlight. Kut-le was clothed again! He wore the khaki suit, the +high-laced riding boots of the ranch days; and he wore them with the +grace, the debonair ease that had so charmed Rhoda in young Cartwell. +That little sense of his difference that his Indian nakedness had kept +in Rhoda's subconsciousness disappeared. She stared at his broad, +graceful shoulders, at the fine outline of his head which still was +bare, and she knew that her decision was going to be indescribably +difficult to keep. Kut-le watched the wistful gray eyes tenderly, as +if he realized the depth of anguish behind their wistfulness; yet he +watched none the less resolutely, as if he had no qualms over the +outcome of his plans. And Rhoda, returning his gaze, caught the depth +and splendor of his eyes. And that wordless joy of life whose thrill +had touched her the first time that she had met young Cartwell rushed +through her veins once more. He was the youth, the splendor, the vivid +wholesomeness of the desert! He was the heart itself, of the desert. +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le laid his hand on hers. +</P> + +<P> +"Rhoda," softly, "do you remember the moment before Porter interrupted +us? Ah, dear one, you will have to prove much to erase the truth of +that moment from our hearts! How much longer must I wait for you, +Rhoda?" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda did not speak, but as she returned the young man's gaze there +came her rare slow smile of unspeakable beauty and tenderness. Kut-le +trembled; but before he could speak Rhoda seemed to see between his +face and hers, DeWitt, haggard and exhausted, expending the last +remnant of his strength in his fight for her. She put her hands before +her face with a little sob. +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le watched her in silence for a moment, then he said in his low +rich voice: +</P> + +<P> +"Neither DeWitt nor I want you to suffer over your decision. And +DeWitt doesn't want just the shell of you. I have the real you! O +Rhoda, the real you will belong to me if you are seven times DeWitt's +wife! Can't you realize that forever and ever you are mine, no matter +how you fight or what you do?" +</P> + +<P> +But Rhoda scarcely heard him. She was with DeWitt, struggling across +the parching sands. +</P> + +<P> +"O Kut-le! Kut-le! What shall I do! What shall I do!" +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le started to answer, then changed his mind. +</P> + +<P> +"You poor, tired little girl," he said. "You have had a fierce time +there in the desert. You look exhausted. What did you have to eat and +how did you make out crossing to the mesa? By your trail you went +miles out of your way." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda struggled for calm. +</P> + +<P> +"We nearly died the first day," she said. "But we did very well after +we reached the mesa." +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le smiled to himself. It was hard even for him to realize that +this plucky girl who passed so simply over such an ordeal as he knew +she must have endured could be the Rhoda of the ranch. But he said +only: +</P> + +<P> +"We'll make for the timber line and let you rest for a while." +</P> + +<P> +At mid-morning they left the desert and began to climb a rough mountain +slope. At the piñon line, Kut-le called a halt. Never before had +shade seemed so good to Rhoda as it did now. She lay on the +pine-needles looking up into the soft green. It was unspeakably +grateful to her eyes which had been so long tortured by the desert +glare. She lay thus for a long time, her mental pain for a while lost +in the access of physical comfort. Shortly Molly, who had been working +rapidly, brought her a steaming bowl of stew. Rhoda ate this, then +with her head pillowed on her arm she fell asleep. +</P> + +<P> +She was wakened by Molly's touch on her arm. It was late afternoon. +Rhoda looked up into the squaw's face and drew a quick hard breath as +realization came to her. +</P> + +<P> +"Molly! Molly!" she cried. "I'm in terrible, terrible trouble, Molly!" +</P> + +<P> +The squaw looked worried. +</P> + +<P> +"You no go away! Kut-le heap sorry while you gone!" +</P> + +<P> +But Rhoda scarcely heeded the woman's voice. She rolled over with her +hot face in the fragrant needles and groaned. +</P> + +<P> +"O Molly! Molly! I'm in terrible trouble!" +</P> + +<P> +"What trouble? You tell old Molly!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda sat up and stared into the deep brown eyes. Just as Kut-le had +become to her the splendor of the desert, so had Molly become the +brooding wisdom of the desert. With sudden inspiration she grasped the +Indian woman's toil-scarred hands. +</P> + +<P> +"Listen, Molly! Before I knew Kut-le, I was going to marry the white +man, DeWitt. And after he stole me I hated Kut-le and I hated the +desert. And now, O Molly, I love both Kut-le and the desert, and I +must marry the white man!" +</P> + +<P> +"Why? You tell Molly why?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because he is white, Molly, like me. Because he loves me so and has +done so much for me! But most of all because he is white!" +</P> + +<P> +Molly scowled. +</P> + +<P> +"Because Kut-le is Injun, you no marry him?" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda nodded miserably. +</P> + +<P> +"Huh! And you think you so big, Kut-le so big that Great Spirit care +if you marry white, marry Injun. All Great Spirit care is for every +squaw to have papoose. Squaw, she big fool to listen to her head. +Squaw, she must always listen to her heart, that is Great Spirit +talking. Your heart, it say marry Kut-le!" +</P> + +<P> +Molly paused and looked at the girl, who sat with stormy eyes on the +sinking sun. And she forgot her hard-earned wisdom and was just a +heart-hungry woman. +</P> + +<P> +"You stay! Stay with Kut-le and old Molly! You so sweet! You like +little childs! You lie in old Molly's heart like little girl papoose +that never came to Molly. You stay! Always, always, Molly will take +care of you!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda was deeply touched. This was the cry of the famished motherhood +of a dying race. She put her soft cheek on Molly's shoulder and she +could no longer see the sun, for her eyes were tear-blinded. Kut-le, +standing on the other side of the camp, looked at the picture with +deepening eyes; then he crossed and put his hand on Rhoda's shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"Dear one," he said, "you must eat your supper, then we must take the +trail." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda looked up into the young man's face. She was exquisite in the +failing light. For a moment it seemed as if Kut-le must fold her in +his arms; but something in her troubled gaze withheld him and he only +smiled at her caressingly. +</P> + +<P> +"Before you eat," he said, "come to the edge of the camp and look +through the glasses." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda hurried after him, and stared out over the desert. A short +distance out, vivid in the afterglow, moved two figures. She +distinguished the short wiry figure of Porter, the gaunt figure of +DeWitt, walking with determined strides. Waiting till she could +command her voice, Rhoda turned to Kut-le. He was watching her keenly. +</P> + +<P> +"Will they pick up our trail? Are the poor things badly lost?" +</P> + +<P> +"Billy Porter lost! I guess not! And I gave him enough hints so that +he ought to join Newman in another twenty-four hours." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda smiled wanly. +</P> + +<P> +"Sometimes you forget to act like a cold-blooded Indian." +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le gave his familiar chuckle. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you see, I've been contaminated by my long association with the +whites!" +</P> + +<P> +And so again the nights of going. During her waking hours, Rhoda spent +the greater part of her time considering arguments that would have +weight with Kut-le when the struggle came which she knew was imminent. +</P> + +<P> +If she had suffered before, if the early part of her abduction had been +agony, it had been nothing in comparison with what she was enduring in +putting Kut-le aside for DeWitt. And, after all, she had no final +guide in holding to her resolution save an instinct that told her that +her course was the right one. All the arguments that she could put +into words against inter-race marriage seemed inadequate. This +instinct which was wordless and formless alone remained sufficient. +</P> + +<P> +And with the ill logic of womankind, through all her arguing with +herself there flushed one glad thought. Kut-le knew that she loved +him, knew that she was suffering in the thought of giving him up! His +tender, half sad, half triumphant smile proved that, as did his +protective air of ownership. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda noticed one condition of her keeping to her decision. She was +very firm in it at night when the desert was dim. But in the glory of +the dawns and the sunsets, her little arguments seemed strangely small. +Sitting on a mountainside one afternoon, Rhoda watched a rain-storm +sweep across the ranges, across the desert, to the far-lying mesas. +Normally odorless, the desert, after the rain, emitted a faint, +ineffable odor that teased the girl's fancy as if she verged on the +secret of the desert's beauty. Exquisite violet mists rolled back to +the mountains. Flashing every rainbow tint from its moistened breast +the desert lay as if breathing the very words of the Great Scheme. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly to Rhoda her resolution seemed small and futile, and for a +long hour she revelled in the thought of belonging to the man she +loved. And yet as night descended and the infinite reaches of the +desert receded into darkness, the spell was broken, and the old doubts +and misery returned. +</P> + +<P> +And so again, the nights of going. But the holiday aspect of the +flight was gone. Kut-le moved with a grim determination that was not +to be misinterpreted. Rhoda knew that they were to reach the Mexican +border with all possible speed. The young Indian drove the little +party to the limit of its endurance. Rhoda avoided talking to him as +much as she could and Kut-le, seeming to understand her mood, left her +much to herself. +</P> + +<P> +On the fourth day they camped on a cañon edge. After Rhoda had eaten +she walked with Kut-le to the far edge and looked down. The cañon was +very deep and narrow. Some distance away, near where it opened on the +desert, lay a heap of ruins. +</P> + +<P> +"Is that another pueblo?" asked Rhoda. +</P> + +<P> +"No, it's an old monastery. Part of the year they have a padre there. +I wish I knew if there was one there now." +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" asked Rhoda suspiciously. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't bother your dear head," answered Kut-le. Then he went on, as if +half to himself: "There's been an awful lot of fooling on this +expedition. Perhaps I ought to have made for the Mexican border the +very night I took you." He looked at Rhoda's wide, troubled eyes. +"But no, then I would have missed this wonderful desert growth of +yours! But now we are going straight over the border where I know a +padre that will many us. Then we will make for Europe at once." +</P> + +<P> +The morning sun glinted on the pine-needles. Old Molly hummed a +singsong air over the stew-pot. And Rhoda stood with stormy, +tear-dimmed eyes and quivering lips. +</P> + +<P> +"It can never, never be, Kut-le!" +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" +</P> + +<P> +"We can't solve the problems of race adjustment. No love is big enough +for that. I have been civilized a thousand years. You have been +savage a thousand years. You can't come forward. I can't go backward." +</P> + +<P> +"You know well enough, Rhoda," said Kut-le quietly, "that I am +civilized." +</P> + +<P> +"You are externally, perhaps," said the girl. "But you yourself have +no proof that at heart you are not as uncivilized as your father or +grandfather. Your stealing me shows that. Nothing can change our +instinct. You know that you might revert at any time." +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le turned on her fiercely. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you love me, Rhoda?" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda stood silently, her cleft chin trembling, her deep gray eyes wide +and grief-stricken. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you love me—and better than you do DeWitt?" insisted the man, +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly Rhoda lifted her head proudly. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," she said, "I do love you, better than any one in the world; but +I cannot marry you!" +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le took her trembling hands in his. +</P> + +<P> +"Why not, dear one?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +Still the sun flickered on the pine-needles and still Molly hummed over +her stew-pot. Still Rhoda stood looking into the eyes of the man she +loved, her scarlet cheeks growing each moment more deeply crimson. +</P> + +<P> +"Because you are an Indian. The instinct in me against such a marriage +is so strong that I dare not go against it." +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le's mouth closed in the old way. +</P> + +<P> +"And still you shall marry me, Rhoda!" +</P> + +<P> +"I am a white woman, Kut-le. I can't marry an Indian. The difference +is too great!" +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le turned abruptly and walked to the cañon edge, looking far out to +the desert. Rhoda, panting and half hysterical, watched him. The +moment which she had so dreaded had arrived, and she found herself, +after all her planning, utterly unprepared to meet it save with +hackneyed phrases. +</P> + +<P> +It seemed a long time that Kut-le stood staring away from her. At last +Rhoda could bear the silence no longer. She ran to him and put her +trembling hand on his arm. He turned his stern young face to her and +her heart failed her. +</P> + +<P> +"O Kut-le! Kut-le!" she cried. "If you won't help me to do right, who +will? It's not right for us to marry! Just not right! That's all I +know about it!" +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le put both hands on her shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"Look here, Rhoda. What you call the 'right' instinct is just the +remnant of the old man-made race hatred in you. It's just a part of +the old conceit of the Caucasian." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda stirred restlessly, but Kut-le held her firmly and went on. +</P> + +<P> +"I tell you, if we're not to go mad, we've got to believe that great +things come to us for a purpose. There is no human being who has loved +who does not believe that love is the greatest thing that has been +given to man. The man who has loved knows that the biggest things in +the world have been done for the love of woman. Love is bigger than +nations or races. It's human, not white, or black, or yellow. It's +above all we can do to tarnish it with our little prejudices. When it +comes greatly, it comes supremely." +</P> + +<P> +He lifted the girl's face and looked deeply into her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Rhoda, if it has come as greatly to you as it has to me, you will not +pause for any sorrow that your coming to me may cost you. You will +come, in spite of everything. I believe that if in your smallness and +ignorance you refuse this gift that has come to you and me, you will be +outraging the greatest force in nature." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda stood sorrow-stricken and confused. When the deep, quiet voice +ceased, she said brokenly: +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't lived in the desert so long as you. The way does not lie so +clear to me. If only I had your conviction, I too could be strong and +walk the path I saw unhesitatingly. But I see no path!" +</P> + +<P> +"Then," said Kut-le, "because I see, I'll decide for you! O Rhoda, you +must believe in me! I have had you in my power and I have kept the +faith with you. I am going to take you and marry you. I am going to +make this gift that has come to you and me make us the big man and +woman that nature needs. Tonight we shall reach the padre who will +marry us." +</P> + +<P> +He watched the girl keenly for a moment, then he again turned from her +deliberately and walked to the edge of the cañon, as if he wanted her +to come to her final decision unbiased by his nearness. But he turned +back to her with a curious expression on his face. +</P> + +<P> +"Come and take a good-by look, Rhoda! Your friends are below. I hope +it will be some time before we see them again!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda went to him. Far, far below, she saw little dots of men making +camp beyond the monastery near the desert. Suddenly Rhoda sank to her +knees with a cry of longing that was heart-breaking. +</P> + +<P> +"O my people! My own people!" she sobbed, crouching upon the cañon +edge. +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le watched the little figure with inscrutable eyes. Then he lifted +the girl to her feet. +</P> + +<P> +"Rhoda, are you going to eat your heart out for your own kind if you +marry me? Won't I be sufficient? It hadn't occurred to me that I +might not be!" +</P> + +<P> +"You haven't given up your people," answered Rhoda. "You are always +going back to them." +</P> + +<P> +"But you aren't really giving them up," urged Kut-le. "It really is I +who make the sacrifice of my race!" +</P> + +<P> +"And that is the reason for one of my fears," cried Rhoda. "I am +afraid that some day you would find the price too great and that our +marriage would be wrecked." +</P> + +<P> +"Even if I went back for a few months each year, would that make you +unhappy?" asked Kut-le. +</P> + +<P> +"Kut-le!" exclaimed Rhoda. "I am not talking of externals. I mean +that if your longing for your own kind made you lose your love for me. +Oh, I can't see any of it straight, but I am afraid!" +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense, Rhoda! I fought that battle long before I knew you. There +is absolutely no danger of my reverting. I am going to spend the rest +of my life among the whites even if you shouldn't marry me, Rhoda. +Rhoda, I wish I had had time to let you grow to it fully!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda stood rigidly. Molly, sensing trouble, hovered restlessly just +out of earshot. +</P> + +<P> +"If you married DeWitt," Kut-le went on, "could you forget me? Forget +the desert? Forget our days and nights? Forget my arms about you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no! No!" cried Rhoda. "You know that I shall love you always!" +</P> + +<P> +"And will DeWitt want what you offer him?" Kut-le went on, mercilessly. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda winced. +</P> + +<P> +"I wish," said Kut-le huskily, "you never will know how I wish that you +had come to me freely, feeling that the sacrifice was worth while!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda looked at him wonderingly. After all the weeks of iron +determination, was the young giant weakening, was his great heart +failing him! +</P> + +<P> +"I had thought," he went on, "that you were big enough to stand the +test. That after the travail and the heart scourging, you would +see—and would come to me freely—strong enough to smile at all your +regrets and fears. That thought steeled me to put you through the +torture. But if now, at the end, you are coming to me only because you +must! Rhoda, I don't want you on those terms." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda gasped. She felt as one feels when in a dream one falls an +unexpected and endless distance. The relief from the pressure of +Kut-le's will that had forced her on, for so long, left her weak and +aimless. +</P> + +<P> +Yet somehow she found the strength to say: +</P> + +<P> +"Kut-le, we must give each other up! I love you so that I can let you +go! Oh, can't you see how I feel about it!" +</P> + +<P> +Again Kut-le looked far off over vista of mountains and cañon. His +eyes were deep and abstracted, as if he saw into the years ahead with +knowledge denied to Rhoda. Then he turned to Rhoda and searched her +face with burning gaze. He eyed her hair, her lovely heart-broken +face, her slender figure. For a moment his face was tortured by a look +of doubt that was heart-shattering. He lifted Rhoda across his chest +in the old way and held her to him with passionate tenderness. He laid +his face against hers and she heard him whisper: +</P> + +<P> +"O my love! Love of my youth and my manhood!" Then he set her very +gently to her feet. "Don't cry," he said. "I can't bear it!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda threw her arms above her head in an abandonment of agony. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I cannot, cannot bear this!" Then she added more calmly: "I +suffer as much as you, Kut-le!" +</P> + +<P> +Again the look of unspeakable grief crossed the young Indian's face, +but it immediately became inscrutable. He led Rhoda along the cañon +edge. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you see that little trail going down?" he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Rhoda wonderingly. +</P> + +<P> +"Then go!" said Kut-le quietly. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda looked up at him blankly. +</P> + +<P> +"Go!" he said sternly. "Go back to your own kind and I will go on, +alone. Don't stop to talk any more. Go now!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda turned and looked at Cesca squatting by the horses, at Molly +hovering near by with anxious eyes. Never to make the dawn camp, +again—never to hear Molly humming over the stew-pot! Suddenly Rhoda +felt that if she could have Molly with her she would not be so utterly +separated from Kut-le. +</P> + +<P> +"Let Molly go with me!" she said. "I love Molly!" +</P> + +<P> +"No!" said Kut-le. "You are to forget the desert and the Indians. Go +now!" +</P> + +<P> +With awe and grief too deep for words, Rhoda obeyed the young chief's +stern eyes. She clambered down the rough trail to a break in the cañon +wall, then, clinging with hands and feet, down the sheer side. The +tall figure, beautiful in its perfect symmetry, stood immovable, the +face never turning from her. Rhoda knew that she never was to forget +this picture of him. At the foot of the cañon wall she stood long, +looking up. Far, far above, the straight figure stood in lonely +majesty, gazing at the life for which he had sacrificed so much. Rhoda +looked until, tear-blinded, she turned away. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap21"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE END OF THE TRAIL +</H3> + + +<P> +The cañon was sandy and rough. Rhoda could see the monastery set among +olive-trees. Beyond this where the cañon opened to the desert she knew +that the white men's camp lay, though she could not see it. +</P> + +<P> +She had no fear of losing her way, with the cañon walls hemming her in. +She still was sobbing softly to herself as she started along the foot +of the wall. She tramped steadily for a time, then she stopped +abruptly. She would not go on! The sacrifice was too much! She +looked back to the cañon top. Kut-le had disappeared. Already he must +be only a memory to her! +</P> + +<P> +Then of a sudden Rhoda felt a sense of shame that her strength of +purpose should be so much less than the Indian's. At least, she could +carry in her heart forever the example of his fortitude. It would be +like his warm hand guiding and lifting her through the hard days and +years to come. Strangely comforted and strengthened by this thought, +Rhoda started on through the familiar wilderness of the desert. +</P> + +<P> +This, she thought, was her last moment alone in the desert, for without +Kut-le she would never return to it. She watched the gray-green cactus +against the painted rock heaps. She watched the brown, tortured crest +of the cañon against the violet sky. She watched the melting haze +above the monastery, the buzzards sliding through the motionless air, +the far multi-colored ranges, as if she would etch forever on her +memory the world that Kut-le loved. And she knew that, let her body +wander where it must, her spirit would forever belong to the desert. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda passed the monastery, where she thought she saw men among the +olive-trees. But she did not stop. She gradually worked out into an +easy trail that led toward the open desert. +</P> + +<P> +The little camp at the cañon's mouth was preparing to move when Jack +Newman jumped excitedly to his feet. Coming toward them through the +sand was a boyish figure that moved with a beautiful stride, tireless +and swift. As the newcomer drew nearer they saw that she was erect and +lithe, slender but full-chested and that her face— +</P> + +<P> +"Rhoda!" shouted John DeWitt. +</P> + +<P> +In a moment, Jack was grasping one of her hands and John DeWitt the +other, while Billy Porter and Carlos shook each other's hands excitedly. +</P> + +<P> +"Gee whiz!" cried Jack. "John said you were in superb condition, but I +didn't realize that it meant this! Why, Rhoda, if it wasn't for your +hair and eyes and the dimple in your chin, I wouldn't know you!" +</P> + +<P> +"Are you all right?" asked DeWitt anxiously. "Where in the world did +you come from? Where have you been?" +</P> + +<P> +"Were you hurt much in the fight?" cried Rhoda. "Oh!" looking about at +the eager listeners, "that was the most awful thing I ever saw, that +fight! And Billy Porter, you are all right, I see. How shall I ever +repay you all for what you have done for me!" +</P> + +<P> +"Gosh!" exclaimed Porter. "I'm repaid just by looking at you! If that +pison Piute hasn't made monkeys of us all, I'd like to know who has! +How did you get away from him?" +</P> + +<P> +"He let me go," answered Rhoda simply. +</P> + +<P> +The men gasped. +</P> + +<P> +"What was the matter with him!" ejaculated Porter, "Was he sick or +dying?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," said Rhoda mechanically; "I guess he saw that it was useless." +</P> + +<P> +"And he dropped you in the desert without water or food or horse!" +cried DeWitt. "Oh, that Apache cur!" +</P> + +<P> +"No! No!" exclaimed Rhoda. "He dropped me not far from here. We saw +the camp and he sent me to it." +</P> + +<P> +The men looked at each other incredulously. Jack Newman's face was +puzzled. He knew Kut-le and it was hard to believe that he would give +up what he already had won. DeWitt spoke excitedly. +</P> + +<P> +"Then he's still within our reach! Hurry up, friends!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda turned swiftly to the gaunt-faced man. Then she spoke very +distinctly, with that in her deep gray eyes that stirred each listener +with a vague sense of loss and yearning. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't want Kut-le harmed! I shan't tell you anything that will help +you locate him. He did me no harm. On the contrary, he made me a well +woman, physically and mentally. If I can forgive his effrontery in +stealing me, surely you all will grant me this favor to top all that +you have done for me." +</P> + +<P> +Porter's under lip protruded with the old obstinate look. +</P> + +<P> +"That fellow's got to be made an example of, Miss Rhoda," he said. "No +white that's a man can stand for what he's done. He's bound to be +hunted down, you know. If we don't, others will!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda turned impatiently to DeWitt. +</P> + +<P> +"John, after all our talk, you must understand! You know what good +Kut-le has done me and how big it was of him to let me go. Make them +promise to let him alone!" +</P> + +<P> +But there was no answering look of understanding in DeWitt's worn face. +</P> + +<P> +"Rhoda, you haven't any idea what you're asking! It isn't a question +of forgiveness! You don't get the point of view that you ought! Why, +the whole country is worked up over this thing! The newspapers are +full of it. Just as Porter says, the Apache's got to be made an +example of. We will hunt him down, if it takes a year!" +</P> + +<P> +So far Jack Newman had said nothing. Rhoda looked at him as if he were +her last hope. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Jack!" she cried. "He was your friend, your dearest friend! And +he sent me back! Why, you never would have got me if he hadn't +voluntarily let me go! He is wonderful on the trail!" +</P> + +<P> +"So we found!" said DeWitt grimly. +</P> + +<P> +But Rhoda was watching Jack. +</P> + +<P> +"Rhoda," Jack said at last, "I know how you feel. I know what a bully +chap Kut-le is. This just about does me up. But what he's done can't +be let go. We've got to punish him!" +</P> + +<P> +"'Punish him!'" repeated Rhoda. "Just what do you mean by that?" +</P> + +<P> +"We mean," answered DeWitt, "that when we find him, I'll shoot him!" +</P> + +<P> +"No!" cried Rhoda. "No! Why he <I>sent me back</I>!" +</P> + +<P> +The three men looked at Rhoda uncomfortably and at each other +wonderingly. A woman's magnanimity is never to be understood by a man! +</P> + +<P> +"Are you tired, Rhoda?" asked DeWitt abruptly. "Do you feel able to +take to the saddle at once?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm all right!" exclaimed Rhoda impatiently. "What are your plans?" +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt pointed out across the sand to the cañon wall. A line of +slender footprints led through the level wastes as plainly as if on +new-fallen snow. +</P> + +<P> +"We will follow your trail," he said. +</P> + +<P> +There was silence for an instant in the little camp while the men eyed +the girlish face, flushed and vivid beneath the tan. As it had come +when DeWitt had rescued her, the old sense of the appalling nature of +her experience was returning to her again. With sickening clarity she +was getting the men's view-point. The old Rhoda would have protested, +would have fought desperately and blindly. The new Rhoda had lived +through hours of hopeless battle with circumstance. She had learned +the desert's lesson of patience. +</P> + +<P> +"I have thought," she said slowly, "so much of the joy of my return to +you! God only knows how the picture of it has kept me alive from day +to day. All <I>your</I> joy seems swallowed up in your thirst for revenge. +All right, my friends. Only, wherever you go, I go too!" +</P> + +<P> +Billy Porter shook his head with a muttered "Gosh!" as if the ways of +women were quite beyond him. +</P> + +<P> +"I think you had better ride on to the ranch with Carlos," said DeWitt, +"while we take up Kut-le's trail. This will be no trip for a woman." +</P> + +<P> +"You're foolish!" exclaimed Jack. "We'll not let her out of our sight +again. You can't tell what stunt Kut-le is up to!" +</P> + +<P> +"That's right!" said Porter. "It'll be hard on her, but she'd better +come with us." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't trouble to discuss the matter," said Rhoda coolly. "I am coming +with you. Katherine probably sent some clothing for me, didn't she?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, yes!" exclaimed Jack. "That was one of the first things she +thought of. She sent her own riding things for you. She spoke of the +little silk dress you had on and said you hadn't anything appropriate +in your trunks for the rough trip you might have to take after we found +you." +</P> + +<P> +Jack was talking rapidly, as if to relieve the tension of the +situation. He undid a pack that he had kept tied to his saddle during +all the long weeks of pursuit. +</P> + +<P> +"We can rig up a dressing-room of blankets in no time," he went on, +putting a bundle into Rhoda's hands. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda stood holding the bundle in silence while all hands set to +rigging up her dressing-room. She felt suddenly cool-headed and +resourceful. Her mind was forced away from her own sorrow to the +solution of another heavy problem. In the little blanket tent she +unrolled the bundle and smiled tenderly at the evidence of Katherine's +thoughtfulness. There were underwear, handkerchiefs, toilet articles +and Katherine's own pretty corduroy divided skirt and Norfolk jacket +with a little blouse and Ascot scarf. +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda took off her buckskins and tattered blue shirt slowly, with lips +that would quiver. This was the last, the very last of Kut-le! She +dressed herself in Katherine's clothes, then folded up the buckskins +and shirt. She would keep them, always! When she came out from the +tent she stepped awkwardly, for the skirts bothered her, and Jack, +waiting nearby, smiled at her. At another time Rhoda would have joined +in his amusement, but now she asked soberly: +</P> + +<P> +"Which horse is for me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Rhoda!" cried DeWitt, "I really wouldn't know you! I thought I never +could want you anything but ethereal, but—Jack! Isn't she wonderful!" +</P> + +<P> +Jack grinned. Rhoda, tanned and oval-cheeked, and straight of back and +shoulder, was not to be compared with the invalid Rhoda. +</P> + +<P> +"Gee!" he said. "Wait till Katherine sees her!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda shrugged her shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"My pleasure in all that is swallowed up by this savage obsession of +yours." +</P> + +<P> +John DeWitt led out Rhoda's pony. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't understand, dear," he said. "You can't doubt my heavenly +joy at having you safe. But the outrage of it all— That Apache +devil!" +</P> + +<P> +"I do understand, John," answered Rhoda wearily. "Don't try to explain +again. I know just how you all feel. Only, I will not have Kut-le +killed." +</P> + +<P> +"Rhoda," said DeWitt hoarsely, "I shall kill him as I would a yellow +dog!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda turned away. The line of march was quickly formed. Porter led. +Carlos closed the rear. DeWitt and Newman rode on either side of +Rhoda. They were not long in reaching the trail down the cañon wall. +Here they paused, for the rough ascent was impossible for the horses. +The men looked questioningly at Rhoda but she volunteered no +information. She believed that Kut-le had left the camp at the top +long since. If for any reason he had delayed his going, she knew that +he had watched every movement in the white camp and could protect +himself easily. +</P> + +<P> +"We can leave Carlos with the horses," said Porter, "while we climb up +and see where the trail leads." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda dismounted, still silent, and followed Porter and DeWitt up the +trail. Jack following her. The trail had been difficult to descend +and was very hard to ascend. There was a dumb purposefulness about the +men's movements that sickened Rhoda. She had seen too much of men in +this mood of late and she feared them, She knew that all the amenities +of civilization had been stripped from them and that she was only +pitting her feeble strength against a world-old instinct. +</P> + +<P> +Her heart was beating heavily as they neared the top, but not from the +hard climb. She was inured to difficult trails. There was a sheer +pull, shoulder high, at the top. The four accomplished it in one +breathless group, then stood as if paralyzed. +</P> + +<P> +Sunlight flickered through the pines. Molly and Cesca prepared the +trail packs. And Kut-le sat beside the spring, eying his visitors +grimly. He looked very cool and well groomed in comparison with his +trail-worn adversaries. +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt pulled out his Colt. +</P> + +<P> +"I think I have you, this time," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes?" asked Kut-le, without stirring. "And what are you going to do +with me?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to take about a minute to tell you what I think of you, and +give you another minute in which to offer up some sort of an Indian +prayer. Then I'm going to shoot you!" +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le glanced from DeWitt to Rhoda, thence to Porter and Newman. +Porter's under lip protruded. Jack looked sick. Both the men had +their hands on their guns. Rhoda moistened her lips to speak, but +Kut-le was before her. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you a good shot, DeWitt?" he asked. "Because I know that Jack and +Porter are sure in their aim." +</P> + +<P> +"You'll never know whether I am or not," replied DeWitt. "You'd better +be thankful that we are shooting you instead of hanging you, as you +deserve, you cur! You'd better be glad you're dying! You haven't a +white friend left in the country! All your ambition and hard work have +come to this because you couldn't change your Indian hide, after all! +Now then, say your prayers! Rhoda, cover up your eyes!" +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le rose slowly. The whites noticed with a little pang of shame +that he made no attempt to touch his gun which lay on the ground beside +him. +</P> + +<P> +"You'd better let Jack and Billy shoot with you," he said quietly. +"You won't like to think about the shot that killed me, afterward. It +isn't nice, I've heard, the memory of killing a man!" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm shooting an Indian, not a man!" said DeWitt. "Say your prayers!" +</P> + +<P> +The spell of fear that had paralyzed Rhoda snapped. Before Jack or +Billy could detain her she ran to DeWitt's side and grasped his arm. +</P> + +<P> +"John! John! Listen to me, one moment! Look at me! In spite of all, +look, see what he's made of me, for you to reap the harvest! Look at +me! I beg of you, do not shoot him! Let him go! Make him promise to +leave the country. Make him promise anything! He keeps promises +because he is an Indian! But if you have any love for me, if you care +anything for my happiness, don't kill Kut-le! I tell you I will never +marry you with his blood on your hands!" +</P> + +<P> +A look curiously hard, curiously suspicious, came to DeWitt's eyes. +Without lowering his gun or looking at the girl, he answered: +</P> + +<P> +"You plead too well, Rhoda! I want this Indian to pay for more torture +of mine than you can dream of! Get back out of the way! Are you +ready, Kut-le?" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda's slender body was rigid. She moved away from DeWitt until she +could encompass the four men in her glance. With arms folded across +her arching chest she spoke with a richness in her voice that none of +her hearers ever could forget. +</P> + +<P> +"Remember, friends, you have forced me to this! You had me safe, but +you thought more of revenge than you did of my safety! John, if you +kill Kut-le you will kill the man that I love with all the passion of +my soul!" +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt gasped as if he had been struck. Newman and Porter stared +dizzily. Only Kut-le stood composed. His eyes with the old look of +tragic tenderness were fastened on the girl. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you going to shoot him now, John?" +</P> + +<P> +"Rhoda!" cried DeWitt fiercely. "Rhoda! Do you realize what you are +saying?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Rhoda steadily. "I realize that a force greater than race +pride, greater than self love, greater than intelligence or fear, is +gripping me! John, I love this man! He and I have lived through +experiences together too great for words. He had me in the hollow of +his hand but he sent me back to you, his enemy. You say that you love +me. But you would not listen to my pleading, you would not grant me +the only favor I ever asked you, the granting of which could not have +harmed you." +</P> + +<P> +Her listeners did not stir. Rhoda moistened her lips. +</P> + +<P> +"Kut-le—— Think what he sacrificed for me. He gave up his dearest +friendships. He gave up his honor and his country and risked his life, +for me. And then when he thought the sacrifice would prove too great +on my part, he gave me up! I ask you to give him his life, for me. +Because, John, and Billy Porter, and Jack, I tell you that I love him!" +</P> + +<P> +"My God!" panted DeWitt. "Rhoda, don't! You don't know what you're +saying! Rhoda!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda looked off where the afternoon sun lay like the very glory of God +upon the chaos of range and desert. Almost—almost the secret of life +itself seemed to bare itself to the girl's wide eyes. The white men +watched her aghast. There was a desperate, hunted look in DeWitt's +tired face. Rhoda turned back. +</P> + +<P> +"I know what I'm saying," she replied. "But I tell you that this thing +is bigger than I am! I have fought it, defied it, ignored it. It only +grows the stronger! I know that this comes to humans but rarely. Yet +it has come to me! It is the greatest force in the world! It is what +makes life persist! To most people it comes only in small degree and +they call that love! To me, in this boundless country, it has come +boundlessly. It is greater than what you know as love. It is greater +than I am. I don't know what sorrow or what joy my decision may bring +me but—John, I want you to let Kut-le live that I may marry him!" +</P> + +<P> +DeWitt's arm dropped as if dead. +</P> + +<P> +"Rhoda," he repeated, agonizedly, "you don't know what you are saying!" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't I?" asked Rhoda steadily. "Have I fought my fight without +coming to know the risk? Don't I know what atavism means, and race +alienation, and hunger for my own? But this which has come to me is +stronger than all these. I love Kut-le, John, and I ask you to give +his life to me!" +</P> + +<P> +Still Kut-le stood motionless, as did Jack and Porter. DeWitt, without +taking his eyes from Rhoda's, slowly, very slowly, slipped his Colt +back into his belt. For a long moment he gazed at the wonder of the +girl's exalted face. Then he passed his hands across his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"I give up!" he said quietly. Then he turned, walked slowly to the +cañon edge, and clambered deliberately down the trail. +</P> + +<P> +Jack and Billy stood dazed for a moment longer, then Porter cleared his +throat. +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Rhoda, don't do this! Now don't you! Come with us back to the +ranch. Just for a month till you get away from this Injun's influence! +Come back and talk to Mrs. Newman. Come back and get some other +woman's ideas! For God's sake, Miss Rhoda, don't ruin your life this +way!" +</P> + +<P> +"When Katherine knows it all, she'll understand and agree with me," +replied Rhoda. "Jack, try to remember everything I said, to tell +Katherine." +</P> + +<P> +"<I>I</I> tell her!" cried Jack. "Why can't you tell her yourself? What +are you planning to do?" +</P> + +<P> +"That is for Kut-le to say," answered Rhoda. +</P> + +<P> +"Rhoda," said Jack, and his voice shook with earnestness, "listen! +Listen to me, your old playmate! I know how fascinating Kut-le is. +Lord help us, girl, he's been my best friend for years! And in spite +of everything, he's my friend still. But, Rhoda, it won't do! It +won't work out right. He's a fine man for men. But as a husband to a +white woman, he's still an Indian; and after the first, that must +always come between you! Think again, Rhoda! I tell you, it won't do!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda's voice still was clear and high, still bore the note of +exaltation. +</P> + +<P> +"I have thought again and again, Jack. There could be no end to the +thinking, so I gave it up!" +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le's eyes were on the girl, inscrutable and calm as the desert +itself, but still he did not speak. +</P> + +<P> +Billy Porter wiped his forehead again and again on a cloth that bore no +resemblance to a handkerchief. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't put up any kind of an argument. All I can say is I don't see +how any one like you could do it, Miss Rhoda! Just think! His folks +is Injuns, dirty, blanket Injuns! They scratch themselves from one +day's end to the other. They will be your relatives, too! They'll be +hanging round you all the time. I'm not a married man but I've noticed +when you marry a man you generally marry his whole darn family. +I—I—oh, there's no use talking to her! Let's take her away by force, +Jack!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda caught her breath and instinctively moved toward Kut-le. But +Jack did not stir. +</P> + +<P> +"No," he answered; "I've done all the chasing and trying to kidnap that +I care about. But, Rhoda, once and for all I tell you that I think you +are doing you and yours a deadly wrong!" +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps I am," replied Rhoda steadily. "I make no pretense of +knowing. At any rate, I'm going to stay with Kut-le." +</P> + +<P> +"For heaven's sake, Rhoda," cried Jack, "at least come back to the +ranch and let Katherine give you a wedding. She'll never forgive me +for leaving you this way!" +</P> + +<P> +Porter turned on Jack savagely. +</P> + +<P> +"Look here!" he shouted. "Are you crazy too! You're talking about her +<I>marrying</I> this Apache!" +</P> + +<P> +Jack spoke through his teeth obstinately. +</P> + +<P> +"I've sweated blood over this thing as long as I propose to. If Rhoda +wants to marry Kut-le, that's her business. I always did like Kut-le +and I always shall. I've done my full duty in trying to get Rhoda +back. Now that she says that she cares for him, it's neither your nor +my business—nor DeWitt's. But I want them to come back to the ranch +with me and let Katherine give them a nice wedding." +</P> + +<P> +"But—but—" spluttered Porter. Then he stopped as the good sense of +Jack's attitude suddenly came home to him. "All right," he said +sullenly. "I'm like DeWitt. I pass. Only—if you try to take this +Injun back to the ranch, he'll never get there alive. He'll be lynched +by the first bunch of cowboys or miners we strike. Miss Rhoda nor you +can't stop 'em. You want to remember how the whole country is worked +up over this!" +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda whitened. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you think that too, Jack and Kut-le?" +</P> + +<P> +For the first time, Jack spoke to Kut-le. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you think, Kut-le?" he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Porter's right, of course," answered Kut-le. "My plan always has been +to slip down into Mexico and then go to Paris for a year or two. I've +got enough money for that. I've always wanted to do some work in the +Sorbonne. By the end of two years I think the Southwest will be +willing to welcome us back." +</P> + +<P> +Nothing could have so simplified the situation as Kut-le's calm +reference to his plans for carrying on his profession. He stood in his +well-cut clothes, not an Indian, but a well-bred, clean-cut man of the +world. Even Porter recognized this, and with a sigh he resigned +himself to the inevitable. +</P> + +<P> +"You folks better come down to the monastery and be married," he said. +"There's a padre down there." +</P> + +<P> +"Gee! What'll I say to Katherine!" groaned Jack. +</P> + +<P> +"Katherine will understand," said Rhoda. "Katherine always loved +Kut-le. Even now I can't believe that she has altogether turned +against him." +</P> + +<P> +Jack Newman heaved a sigh. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," he said, "Kut-le, will you and Rhoda come down to the monastery +with us and be married?" His young niece was solemn. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," answered Kut-le, "if Rhoda is agreed." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda's face still wore the look of exaltation. +</P> + +<P> +"I will come!" she said. +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le did not let his glance rest on her, but turned to Billy. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Porter," he said courteously, "will you come to my wedding?" +</P> + +<P> +Billy looked dazed. He stared from Kut-le to Rhoda, and Rhoda smiled +at him. His last defense was down. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll be there, thanks!" he said. +</P> + +<P> +"There is a side trail that we can take my horses down," said Kut-le. +</P> + +<P> +They all were silent as Kut-le led the way down the side trail and by a +circuitous path to the monastery. He made his way up through a rude, +grass-grown path to a cloistered front that was in fairly good repair. +Here they dismounted and waited while Kut-le pulled a long bell-rope +that hung beside a battered door. There was not long to wait before +the door opened and a white-faced old padre stood staring in amazement +at the little group. +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le talked rapidly, now in Spanish and now in English, and at last +the padre turned to Rhoda with a smile. +</P> + +<P> +"And you?" he asked. "You are quite willing?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Rhoda, though her voice trembled in spite of her. +</P> + +<P> +"And you?" asked the padre, turning to Jack and Billy. +</P> + +<P> +The two men nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Then enter!" said the padre. +</P> + +<P> +And with Cesca and Molly bringing up the rear, the wedding party +followed the padre down a long adobe hallway across a courtyard where +palms still shaded a trickling fountain, into a dim chapel, with grim +adobe walls and pews hacked and worn by centuries of use. +</P> + +<P> +The padre was excited and pleased. +</P> + +<P> +"If," he said, "you all will sit, I will call my two choir-boys who are +at work in the olive orchard. They are not far away. We are always +ready to hold service for such as may wish to attend." +</P> + +<P> +He disappeared through the door of the choir loft and returned shortly, +followed by two tall Mexican half-breeds, clad in priceless surplices +that had been wrought in Spain two centuries before. They lighted some +meager candles before the altar and began their chant in soft, +well-trained voices. +</P> + +<P> +The padre turned and waited. Kut-le rose and, taking Rhoda's hand, he +led her before the aged priest. +</P> + +<P> +To the two white men the scene was unforgetable. The dim old chapel, +scene of who could tell what heart-burnings of desert history; the +priest of the ancient religion; standing before him the two young +people, one of a vanishing and one of a conquering race, both +startlingly vivid in the perfection of their beauty; and, looking on, +the two wide-eyed squaws with aboriginal wonder in their eyes. +</P> + +<P> +It was but a moment before Kut-le had slipped a ring on Rhoda's finger; +but a moment before the priest had pronounced them man and wife. +</P> + +<P> +As the two left the priest, Jack kissed Rhoda solemnly twice. +</P> + +<P> +"Once for Katherine," he said, "and once for me. I don't understand +much how it all has come about, but I know Kut-le, and I'm willing to +trust you to him." +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le gave Jack a clear look. +</P> + +<P> +"Jack, I'll never forget that speech. If I live long enough, I'll +repay you for it." +</P> + +<P> +"And an Indian keeps his promises," said Rhoda softly. +</P> + +<P> +Billy Porter was not to be outdone. +</P> + +<P> +"Now that it's all over with, I'll say that Kut-le is a good fighter +and that you are the handsomest couple I ever saw." +</P> + +<P> +Kut-le chuckled. +</P> + +<P> +"Cesca, am I such a heap fool?" +</P> + +<P> +Cesca sniffed. +</P> + +<P> +"White squaws no good! They—" +</P> + +<P> +But Molly elbowed Cesca aside. +</P> + +<P> +"You no listen to her!" she said. +</P> + +<P> +"O Molly! Molly!" cried Rhoda. "You are a woman! I'm glad you were +here!" And the men's eyes blurred a little as the Indian woman hugged +the white girl to her and crooned over her. +</P> + +<P> +"You no cry! You no cry! When you come back, Molly come to your +house, take care of you!" +</P> + +<P> +After a moment Rhoda wiped her eyes, and Kut-le, who had been giving +the old padre something that the old fellow eyed with joy, took the +girl's hand gently. +</P> + +<P> +"Come!" he said. +</P> + +<P> +At the door the others watched them mount and ride away. The two sat +their horses with the grace that comes of long, hard trails. +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe I've done wrong," said Jack. "But I don't feel so. I'm awful +sorry for DeWitt." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm awful sorry for DeWitt," agreed Porter, "but I'm sorrier for +myself. I'm older than DeWitt a whole lot. He's young enough to get +over anything." +</P> + +<P> +When they had ridden out of sight of the monastery, Kut-le pulled in +his horse and dismounted. Then he stood looking up into Rhoda's face. +In his eyes was the same look of exaltation that made hers wonderful. +He put his hand on her knee. +</P> + +<P> +"We've a long ride ahead of us," he said softly. "I want something +that I can't have on horseback." +</P> + +<P> +Rhoda laid her hand on his. +</P> + +<P> +"You meant it all, Rhoda? It was not only to save my life?" +</P> + +<P> +"Do you have to ask that?" said Rhoda. +</P> + +<P> +"No!" answered Kut-le simply. "You see I waited for you. I knew that +they would bring you back. And if you had not spoken, I would rather +have died. I had made up my mind to that. O my love! It has come to +us greatly!" +</P> + +<P> +Then, as if the flood, controlled all these months, had burst its +bonds, Kut-le lifted Rhoda from her saddle to his arms and laid his +lips to hers. For a long moment the two clung to each other as if they +knew that life could hold no moment for them so sweet as this. Then +they mounted and, side by side, they rode off into the desert sunset. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + +<hr class="full" noshade> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HEART OF THE DESERT***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 16777-h.txt or 16777-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/7/7/16777">https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/7/7/16777</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: +<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL">https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL</a> + +*** END: FULL LICENSE *** +</pre> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/16777-h/images/img-front.jpg b/16777-h/images/img-front.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3cbde06 --- /dev/null +++ b/16777-h/images/img-front.jpg diff --git a/16777.txt b/16777.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6d565b9 --- /dev/null +++ b/16777.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8729 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Heart of the Desert, by Honoré Willsie +Morrow, Illustrated by V. Herbert Dunton + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Heart of the Desert + Kut-Le of the Desert + + +Author: Honoré Willsie Morrow + + + +Release Date: September 30, 2005 [eBook #16777] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HEART OF THE DESERT*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustration. + See 16777-h.htm or 16777-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/7/7/16777/16777-h/16777-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/7/7/16777/16777-h.zip) + + + + + +THE HEART OF THE DESERT + +(Kut-Le of the Desert) + +by + +HONORE WILLSIE + +Author of "Still Jim" + +With Frontispiece in Colors by V. Herbert Dunton + +A. L. Burt Company, Publishers +114-120 East Twenty-third Street ---- New York +Published by Arrangement with Frederick A. Stokes Company + +1913 + + + + + + + +[Frontispiece: Side by side, they rode off into the desert sunset.] + + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER + + I THE VALLEY OF THE PECOS + II THE CAUCASIAN WAY + III THE INDIAN AND CAUCASIAN + IV THE INDIAN WAY + V THE PURSUIT + VI ENTERING THE DESERT KINDERGARTEN + VII THE FIRST LESSON + VIII A BROADENING HORIZON + IX TOUCH AND GO + X A LONG TRAIL + XI THE TURN IN THE TRAIL + XII THE CROSSING TRAILS + XIII AN INTERLUDE + XIV THE BEAUTY OF THE WORLD + XV AN ESCAPE + XVI ADRIFT IN THE DESERT + XVII THE HEART'S OWN BITTERNESS + XVIII THE FORGOTTEN CITY + XIX THE TRAIL AGAIN + XX THE RUINED MISSION + XXI THE END OF THE TRAIL + + + + +The Heart of the Desert + + +CHAPTER I + +THE VALLEY OF THE PECOS + +Rhoda hobbled through the sand to the nearest rock. On this she sank +with a groan, clasped her slender foot with both hands and looked about +her helplessly. + +She felt very small, very much alone. The infinite wastes of yellow +desert danced in heat waves against the bronze-blue sky. The girl saw +no sign of living thing save a buzzard that swept lazily across the +zenith. She turned dizzily from contemplating the vast emptiness about +her to a close scrutiny of her injured foot. She drew off her thin +satin house slipper painfully and dropped it unheedingly into a bunch +of yucca that crowded against the rock. Her silk stocking followed. +Then she sat in helpless misery, eying her blue-veined foot. + +In spite of her evident invalidism, one could but wonder why she made +so little effort to help herself. She sat droopingly on the rock, +gazing from her foot to the far lavender line of the mesas. A tiny, +impotent atom of life, she sat as if the eternal why which the desert +hurls at one overwhelmed her, deprived her of hope, almost of +sensation. There was something of nobility in the steadiness with +which she gazed at the melting distances, something of pathos in her +evident resignation, to her own helplessness and weakness. + +The girl was quite unconscious of the fact that a young man was +tramping up the desert behind her. He, however, had spied the white +gown long before Rhoda had sunk to the rock and had laid his course +directly for her. He was a tall fellow, standing well over six feet +and he swung through the heavy sand with an easy stride that covered +distance with astonishing rapidity. As he drew near enough to perceive +Rhoda's yellow head bent above her injured foot, he quickened his pace, +swung round the yucca thicket and pulled off his soft felt hat. + +"Good-morning!" he said. "What's the matter?" + +Rhoda started, hastily covered her foot, and looked up at the tall +khaki-clad figure. She never had seen the young man before, but the +desert is not formal. + +"A thing like a little crayfish bit my foot," she answered; "and you +don't know how it hurts!" + +"Ah, but I do!" exclaimed the young man. "A scorpion sting! Let me +see it!" + +Rhoda flushed. + +"Oh, never mind that!" she said. "But if you will go to the Newman +ranch-house for me and ask them to send the buckboard I'll be very +grateful. I--I feel dizzy, you know." + +"Gee whiz!" exclaimed the young man. "There's no time for me to run +about the desert if you have a scorpion sting in your foot!" + +"Is a scorpion sting dangerous?" asked Rhoda. Then she added, +languidly, "Not that I mind if it is!" + +The young man gave her a curious glance. Then he pulled a small case +from his pocket, knelt in the sand and lifted Rhoda's foot in one +slender, strong, brown hand. The instep already was badly swollen. + +"Hold tight a minute!" said the young man. + +And before Rhoda could protest he had punctured the red center of the +swelling with a little scalpel, had held the cut open and had filled it +with a white powder that bit. Then he pulled a clean handkerchief from +his pocket and tore it in two. With one half he bound the ankle above +the cut tightly. With the other he bandaged the cut itself. + +"Are you a doctor?" asked Rhoda faintly. + +"Far from it," replied the young man with a chuckle, tightening the +upper bandage until Rhoda's foot was numb. "But I always carry this +little outfit with me; rattlers and scorpions are so thick over on the +ditch. Somebody's apt to be hurt anytime. I'm Charley Cartwell, Jack +Newman's engineer." + +"Oh!" said Rhoda understandingly. "I'm so dizzy I can't see you very +well. This is very good of you. Perhaps now you'd go on and get the +buckboard. Tell them it's for Rhoda, Rhoda Tuttle. I just went out +for a walk and then--" + +Her voice trailed into nothingness and she could only steady her +swaying body with both hands against the rock. + +"Huh!" grunted young Cartwell. "I go on to the house and leave you +here in the boiling sun!" + +"Would you mind hurrying?" asked Rhoda. + +"Not at all," returned Cartwell. + +He plucked the stocking and slipper from the yucca and dropped them +into his pocket. Then he stooped and lifted Rhoda across his broad +chest. This roused her. + +"Why, you can't do this!" she cried, struggling to free herself. + +Cartwell merely tightened his hold and swung out at a pace that was +half run, half walk. + +"Close your eyes so the sun won't hurt them," he said peremptorily. + +Dizzily and confusedly, Rhoda dropped her head back on the broad +shoulder and closed her eyes, with a feeling of security that later on +was to appall her. Long after she was to recall the confidence of this +moment with unbelief and horror. Nor did she dream how many weary days +and hours she one day was to pass with this same brazen sky over her, +this same broad shoulder under her head. + +Cartwell looked down at the delicate face lying against his breast, at +the soft yellow hair massed against his sleeve. Into his black eyes +came a look that was passionately tender, and the strong brown hand +that supported Rhoda's shoulders trembled. + +In an incredibly short time he was entering the peach orchard that +surrounded the ranch-house. A young man in white flannels jumped from +a hammock in which he had been dozing. + +"For heaven's sake!" he exclaimed. "What does this mean?" + +Rhoda was too ill to reply. Cartwell did not slack his giant stride +toward the house. + +"It means," he answered grimly, "that you folks must be crazy to let +Miss Tuttle take a walk in clothes like this! She's got a scorpion +sting in her foot." + +The man in flannels turned pale. He hurried along beside Cartwell, +then broke into a run. + +"I'll telephone to Gold Rock for the doctor and tell Mrs. Newman." + +He started on ahead. + +"Never mind the doctor!" called Cartwell. "I've attended to the sting. +Tell Mrs. Jack to have hot water ready." + +As Cartwell sprang up the porch steps, Mrs. Newman ran out to meet him. +She was a pretty, rosy girl, with brown eyes and curly brown hair. + +"Rhoda! Kut-le!" she cried. "Why didn't I warn her! Put her on the +couch here in the hall, Kut-le. John, tell Li Chung to bring the +hot-water bottles. Here, Rhoda dear, drink this!" + +For half an hour the three, with Li Chung hovering in the background, +worked over the girl. Then as they saw her stupor change to a natural +sleep, Katherine gave a sigh that was almost a sob. + +"She's all right!" she said. "O Kut-le, if you hadn't come at that +moment!" + +Cartwell shook his head. + +"It might have gone hard with her, she's so delicate. Gee, I'm glad I +ran out of tobacco this morning and thought a two-mile tramp across the +desert for it worth while!" + +The three were on the porch now. The young man in flannels, who had +said little but had obeyed orders explicitly eyed Cartwell curiously. + +"You're Newman's engineer, aren't you?" he asked. "My name's DeWitt. +You've put us all under great obligations, this morning." + +Cartwell took the extended hand. + +"Well, you know," he said carefully, "a scorpion sting may or may not +be serious. People have died of them. Mrs. Jack here makes no more of +them than of a mosquito bite, while Jack goes about like a drunken +sailor with one for a day, then forgets it. Miss Tuttle will be all +right when she wakes up. I'm off till dinner time, Mrs. Jack. Jack +will think I've reverted!" + +DeWitt stood for a moment watching the tall, lithe figure move through +the peach-trees. He was torn by a strange feeling, half of aversion, +half of charm for the dark young stranger. Then: + +"Hold on, Cartwell," he cried. "I'll drive you back in the buckboard." + +Katherine Newman, looking after the two, raised her eyebrows, shook her +head, then smiled and went back to Rhoda. + +It was mid-afternoon when Rhoda woke. Katherine was sitting near by +with her sewing. + +"Well!" said Rhoda wonderingly. "I'm all right, after all!" + +Katherine jumped up and took Rhoda's thin little hand joyfully. + +"Indeed you are!" she cried. "Thanks to Kut-le!" + +"Thanks to whom?" asked Rhoda. "It was a tall young man. He said his +name was Charley Cartwell." + +"Yup!" answered Katherine. "Charley Cartwell! His other name is +Kut-le. He'll be in to dinner with Jack, tonight. Isn't he +good-looking, though!" + +"I don't know. I was so dizzy I couldn't see him. He seemed very +dark. Is he a Spaniard?" + +"Spaniard! No!" Katherine was watching Rhoda's languid eyes half +mischievously. "He's part Mescallero, part Pueblo, part Mohave!" + +Rhoda sat erect with flaming face. + +"You mean that he's an Indian and I let him carry me! Katherine!" + +The mischief in Katherine's brown eyes grew to laughter. + +"I thought that would get a rise out of you, you blessed tenderfoot! +What difference does that make? He rescued you from a serious +predicament; and more than that he's a fine fellow and one of Jack's +dearest friends." + +Rhoda's delicate face still was flushed. + +"An Indian! What did John DeWitt say?" + +"Oh!" said Katherine, carelessly, "he offered to drive Kut-le back to +the ditch, and he hasn't got home yet. They probably will be very +congenial, John being a Harvard man and Kut-le a Yale!" + +Rhoda's curved lips opened, then closed again. The look of interest +died from her eyes. + +"Well," she said in her usual weary voice, "I think I'll have a glass +of milk, if I may. Then I'll go out on the porch. You see I'm being +all the trouble to you, Katherine, that I said I would be." + +"Trouble!" protested Katherine. "Why, Rhoda Tuttle, if I could just +see you with the old light in your eyes I'd wait on you by inches on my +knees. I would, honestly." + +Rhoda rubbed a thin cheek against the warm hand that still held hers, +and the mute thanks said more than words. + +The veranda of the Newman ranch-house was deep and shaded by green +vines. From the hammock where she lay, a delicate figure amid the +vivid cushions, Rhoda looked upon a landscape that combined all the +perfection of verdure of a northern park with a sense of illimitable +breathing space that should have been fairly intoxicating to her. Two +huge cottonwoods stood beside the porch. Beyond the lawn lay the peach +orchard which vied with the bordering alfalfa fields in fragrance and +color. The yellow-brown of tree-trunks and the white of grazing sheep +against vegetation of richest green were astonishing colors for Rhoda +to find in the desert to which she had been exiled, and in the few days +since her arrival she had not ceased to wonder at them. + +DeWitt crossed the orchard, quickening his pace when he saw Rhoda. He +was a tall fellow, blond and well built, though not so tall and lithe +as Cartwell. His dark blue eyes were disconcertingly clear and direct. + +"Well, Rhoda dear!" he exclaimed as he hurried up the steps. "If you +didn't scare this family! How are you feeling now?" + +"I'm all right," Rhoda answered languidly. "It was good of you all to +bother so about me. What have you been doing all day?" + +"Over at the ditch with Jack and Cartwell. Say, Rhoda, the young +fellow who rescued you is an Indian!" + +DeWitt dropped into a big chair by the hammock. He watched the girl +hopefully. It was such a long, long time since she had been interested +in anything! But there was no responsive light in the deep gray eyes. + +"Katherine told me," she replied. Then, after a pause, as if she felt +it her duty to make conversation, "Did you like him?" + +DeWitt spoke slowly, as if he had been considering the matter. + +"I've a lot of race prejudice in me, Rhoda. I don't like niggers or +Chinamen or Indians when they get over to the white man's side of the +fence. They are well enough on their own side. However, this Cartwell +chap seems all right. And he rescued you from a beastly serious +situation!" + +"I don't know that I'm as grateful for that as I ought to be," murmured +Rhoda, half to herself. "It would have been an easy solution." + +Her words stung DeWitt. He started forward and seized the small thin +hands in both his own. + +"Rhoda, don't!" he pleaded huskily. "Don't give up! Don't lose hope! +If I could only give you some of my strength! Don't talk so! It just +about breaks my heart to hear you." + +For a time, Rhoda did not answer. She lay wearily watching the eager, +pleading face so close to her own. Even in her illness, Rhoda was very +lovely. The burnished yellow hair softened the thinness of the face +that was like delicately chiseled marble. The finely cut nose, the +exquisite drooping mouth, the little square chin with its cleft, and +the great gray eyes lost none of their beauty through her weakness. + +"John," she said at last, "why won't you look the truth in the face? I +never shall get well. I shall die here instead of in New York, that's +all. Why did you follow me down here? It only tortures you. And, +truly it's not so bad for me. You all have lost your realness to me, +somehow. I shan't mind going, much." + +DeWitt's strong face worked but his voice was steady. + +"I never shall leave you," he said simply. "You are the one woman in +the world for me. I'd marry you tomorrow if you'd let me." + +Rhoda shook her head. + +"You ought to go away, John, and forget me. You ought to go marry some +fine girl and have a home and a family. I'm just a sick wreck." + +"Rhoda," and DeWitt's earnest voice was convincing, "Rhoda, I'd pass up +the healthiest, finest girl on earth for you, just sick you. Why, +can't you see that your helplessness and dependence only deepen your +hold on me? Who wants a thing as fragile and as lovely as you are to +make a home! You pay your way in life just by living! Beauty and +sweetness like yours is enough for a woman to give. I don't want you +to do a thing in the world. Just give yourself to me and let me take +care of you. Rhoda, dear, dear heart!" + +"I can't marry unless I'm well," insisted Rhoda, "and I never shall be +well again. I know that you all thought it was for the best, bringing +me down to the desert, but just as soon as I can manage it without +hurting Katherine's and Jack's feelings too much, I'm going back to New +York. If you only knew how the big emptiness of this desert country +adds to my depression!" + +"If you go back to New York," persisted DeWitt, "you are going back as +my wife. I'm sick of seeing you dependent on hired care. Why, Rhoda +dear, is it nothing to you that, when you haven't a near relative in +the world, I would gladly die for you?" + +"Oh!" cried the girl, tears of weakness and pity in her eyes, "you know +that it means everything to me! But I can't marry any one. All I want +is just to crawl away and die in peace. I wish that that Indian hadn't +come upon me so promptly. I'd just have gone to sleep and never +wakened." + +"Don't! Don't!" cried DeWitt. "I shall pick you up and hold you +against all the world, if you say that!" + +"Hush!" whispered Rhoda, but her smile was very tender. "Some one is +coming through the orchard." + +DeWitt reluctantly released the slender hands and leaned back in his +chair. The sun had crossed the peach orchard slowly, breathlessly. It +cast long, slanting shadows along the beautiful alfalfa fields and +turned the willows by the irrigating ditch to a rosy gray. As the sun +sank, song-birds piped and lizards scuttled along the porch rail. The +loveliest part of the New Mexican day had come. + +The two young Northerners watched the man who was swinging through the +orchard. It was Cartwell. Despite his breadth of shoulder, the young +Indian looked slender, though it was evident that only panther strength +could produce such panther grace. He crossed the lawn and stood at the +foot of the steps; one hand crushed his soft hat against his hip, and +the sun turned his close-cropped black hair to blue bronze. For an +instant none of the three spoke. It was as if each felt the import of +this meeting which was to be continued through such strange +vicissitudes. Cartwell, however, was not looking at DeWitt but at +Rhoda, and she returned his gaze, surprised at the beauty of his face, +with its large, long-lashed, Mohave eyes that were set well apart and +set deeply as are the eyes of those whose ancestors have lived much in +the open glare of the sun; with the straight, thin-nostriled nose; with +the stern, cleanly modeled mouth and the square chin, below. And +looking into the young Indian's deep black eyes, Rhoda felt within +herself a vague stirring that for a second wiped the languor from her +eyes. + +Cartwell spoke first, easily, in the quiet, well-modulated voice of the +Indian. + +"Hello! All safe, I see! Mr. Newman will be here shortly." He seated +himself on the upper step with his back against a pillar and fanned +himself with his hat. "Jack's working too hard. I want him to go to +the coast for a while and let me run the ditch. But he won't. He's as +pig-headed as a Mohave." + +"Are the Mohaves so pig-headed then?" asked DeWitt, smiling. + +Cartwell returned the smile with a flash of white teeth. + +"You bet they are! My mother was part Mohave and she used to say that +only the Pueblo in her kept her from being as stiff-necked as yucca. +You're all over the dizziness, Miss Tuttle?" + +"Yes," said Rhoda. "You were very good to me." + +Cartwell shook his head. + +"I'm afraid I can't take special credit for that. Will you two ride to +the ditch with me tomorrow? I think Miss Tuttle will be interested in +Jack's irrigation dream, don't you, Mr. DeWitt?" + +DeWitt answered a little stiffly. + +"It's out of the question for Miss Tuttle to attempt such a trip, thank +you." + +But to her own as well as DeWitt's astonishment Rhoda spoke +protestingly. + +"You must let me refuse my own invitations, John. Perhaps the ditch +would interest me." + +DeWitt replied hastily, "Good gracious, Rhoda! If anything will +interest you, don't let me interfere." + +There was protest in his voice against Rhoda's being interested in an +Indian's suggestion. Both Rhoda and Cartwell felt this and there was +an awkward pause. This was broken by a faint halloo from the corral +and DeWitt rose abruptly. + +"I'll go down and meet Jack," he said. + +"We'll do a lot of stunts if you're willing," Cartwell said serenely, +his eyes following DeWitt's broad back inscrutably. "The desert is +like a story-book if one learns to read it. If you would be interested +to learn, I would be keen to teach you." + +Rhoda's gray eyes lifted to the young man's somberly. + +"I'm too dull these days to learn anything," she said. "But I--I +didn't used to be! Truly I didn't! I used to be so alive, so strong! +I believed in everything, myself most of all! Truly I did!" She +paused, wondering at her lack of reticence. + +Cartwell, however, was looking at her with something in his gaze so +quietly understanding that Rhoda smiled. It was a slow smile that +lifted and deepened the corners of Rhoda's lips, that darkened her gray +eyes to black, an unforgetable smile to the loveliness of which Rhoda's +friends never could accustom themselves. At the sight of it, Cartwell +drew a deep breath, then leaned toward her and spoke with curious +earnestness. + +"You make me feel the same way that starlight on the desert makes me +feel." + +Rhoda replied in astonishment, "Why, you mustn't speak that way to me! +It's not--not--" + +"Not conventional?" suggested Cartwell. "What difference does that +make, between you and me?" + +Again came the strange stirring in Rhoda in response to Cartwell's +gaze. He was looking at her with something of tragedy in the dark +young eyes, something of sternness and determination in the clean-cut +lips. Rhoda wondered, afterward, what would have been said if +Katherine had not chosen this moment to come out on the porch. + +"Rhoda," she asked, "do you feel like dressing for dinner? Hello, +Kut-le, it's time you moved toward soap and water, seems to me!" + +"Yessum!" replied Cartwell meekly. He rose and helped Rhoda from the +hammock, then held the door open for her. DeWitt and Newman emerged +from the orchard as he crossed to Katherine's chair. + +"Is she very sick, Mrs. Jack?" he asked. + +Katherine nodded soberly. + +"Desperately sick. Her father and mother were killed in a railroad +wreck a year ago. Rhoda wasn't seriously hurt but she has never gotten +over the shock. She has been failing ever since. The doctor feared +consumption and sent her down here. But she's just dying by inches. +Oh, it's too awful! I can't believe it! I can't realize it!" + +Cartwell stood in silence for a moment, his lips compressed, his eyes +inscrutable. + +Then, "I've met her at last," he said. "It makes me believe in Fate." + +Katherine's pretty lips parted in amazement. + +"Goodness! Are you often taken this way!" she gasped. + +"Never before!" replied Cartwell serenely. "Jack said she'd broken her +engagement to DeWitt because of her illness, so it's a fair war!" + +"Kut-le!" exclaimed Katherine. "Don't talk like a yellow-backed novel! +It's not a life or death affair." + +"You can't tell as to that," answered Cartwell with a curious little +smile. "You mustn't forget that I'm an Indian." + +And he turned to greet the two men who were mounting the steps. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE CAUCASIAN WAY + +When Rhoda entered the dining-room some of her pallor seemed to have left +her. She was dressed in a gown of an elusive pink that gave a rose flush +to the marble fineness of her face. + +Katherine was chatting with a wiry, middle-aged man whom she introduced +to Rhoda as Mr. Porter, an Arizona mining man. Porter stood as if +stunned for a moment by Rhoda's delicate loveliness. Then, as was the +custom of every man who met Rhoda, he looked vaguely about for something +to do for her. Jack Newman forestalled him by taking Rhoda's hand and +leading her to the table. Jack's curly blond hair looked almost white in +contrast with his tanned face. He was not as tall as either Cartwell or +DeWitt but he was strong and clean-cut and had a boyish look despite the +heavy responsibilities of his five-thousand-acre ranch. + +"There," he said, placing Rhoda beside Porter; "just attach Porter's +scalp to your belt with the rest of your collection. It'll be a new +experience to him. Don't be afraid, Porter." + +Billy Porter was not in the least embarrassed. + +"I've come too near to losing my scalp to the Apaches to be scared by +Miss Tuttle. Anyhow I gave her my scalp without a yelp the minute I laid +eyes on her." + +"Here! That's not fair!" cried John DeWitt. "The rest of us had to work +to get her to take ours!" + +"Our what?" asked Cartwell, entering the room at the last word. He was +looking very cool and well groomed in white flannels. + +Billy Porter stared at the newcomer and dropped his soup-spoon with a +splash. "What in thunder!" Rhoda heard him mutter. + +Jack Newman spoke hastily. + +"This is Mr. Cartwell, our irrigation engineer, Mr. Porter." + +Porter responded to the young Indian's courteous bow with a surly nod, +and proceeded with his soup. + +"I'd as soon eat with a nigger as an Injun," he said to Rhoda under cover +of some laughing remark of Katherine's to Cartwell. + +"He seems to be nice," said Rhoda vaguely. "Maybe, though, Katherine +_is_ a little liberal, making him one of the family." + +"Is there any hunting at all in this open desert country?" asked DeWitt. +"I certainly hate to go back to New York with nothing but sunburn to show +for my trip!" + +"Coyotes, wildcats, rabbits and partridges," volunteered Cartwell. "I +know where there is a nest of wildcats up on the first mesa. And I know +an Indian who will tan the pelts for you, like velvet. A jack-rabbit +pelt well tanned is an exquisite thing too, by the way. I will go on a +hunt with you whenever the ditch can be left." + +"And while they are chasing round after jacks, Miss Tuttle," cut in Billy +Porter neatly, "I will take you anywhere you want to go. I'll show you +things these kids never dreamed of! I knew this country in the days of +Apache raids and the pony express." + +"That will be fine!" replied Rhoda. "But I'd rather hear the stories +than take any trips. Did you spend your boyhood in New Mexico? Did you +see real Indian fights? Did you--?" She paused with an involuntary +glance at Cartwell. + +Porter, too, looked at the dark young face across the table and something +in its inscrutable calm seemed to madden him. + +"My boyhood here? Yes, and a happy boyhood it was! I came home from the +range one day and found my little fifteen-year-old sister and a little +neighbor friend of hers hung up by the back of their necks on butcher +hooks. They had been tortured to death by Apaches. I don't like +Indians!" + +There was an awkward pause at the dinner table. Li Chung removed the +soup-plates noiselessly. Cartwell's brown fingers tapped the tablecloth. +But he was not looking at Porter's scowling face. He was watching +Rhoda's gray eyes which were fastened on him with a look half of pity, +half of aversion. When he spoke it was as if he cared little for the +opinions of the others but would set himself right with her alone. + +"My father," he said, "came home from the hunt, one day, to find his +mother and three sisters lying in their own blood. The whites had gotten +them. They all had been scalped and were dead except the baby, three +years old. She--she--my father killed her." + +A gasp of horror went round the table. + +"I think such stories are inexcusable here!" exclaimed Katherine +indignantly. + +"So do I, Mrs. Jack," replied Cartwell. "I won't do it again." + +Porter's face stained a deep mahogany and he bowed stiffly to Katherine. + +"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Newman!" + +"I feel as if I were visiting a group of anarchists," said Rhoda +plaintively, "and had innocently passed round a bomb on which to make +conversation!" + +Jack Newman laughed, the tension relaxed, and in a moment the dinner was +proceeding merrily, though Porter and Cartwell carefully avoided speaking +to each other. Most of the conversation centered around Rhoda. +Katherine always had been devoted to her friend. And though men always +had paid homage to Rhoda, since her illness had enhanced her delicacy, +and had made her so appealingly helpless, they were drawn to her as +surely as bee to flower. Old and young, dignified and happy-go-lucky, +all were moved irresistibly to do something for her, to coddle her, to +undertake impossible missions, self-imposed. + +Porter from his place of vantage beside her kept her plate heaped with +delicacies, calmly removed the breast of chicken from his own plate to +hers, all but fed her with a spoon when she refused to more than nibble +at her meal. + +DeWitt's special night-mare was that drafts were blowing on her. He kept +excusing himself from the table to open and close windows and doors, to +hang over her chair so as to feel for himself if the wind touched her. + +Katherine and Jack kept Li Chung trotting to the kitchen for different +dainties with which to tempt her. Only Cartwell did nothing. He kept up +what seemed to be his usual fire of amiable conversation and watched +Rhoda constantly through inscrutable black eyes. But he made no attempt +to serve her. + +Rhoda was scarcely conscious of the deference showed her, partly because +she had received it so long, partly because that detached frame of mind +of the hopeless invalid made the life about her seem shadowy and unreal. +Nothing really mattered much. She lay back in her chair with the little +wistful smile, the somber light in her eyes that had become habitual to +her. + +After dinner was finished Katherine led the way to the living-room. To +his unspeakable pride, Rhoda took Billy Porter's arm and he guided her +listless footsteps carefully, casting pitying glances on his less favored +friends. Jack wheeled a Morris chair before the fireplace--desert nights +are cool--and John DeWitt hurried for a shawl, while Katherine gave every +one orders that no one heeded in the least. + +Cartwell followed after the others, slowly lighted a cigarette, then +seated himself at the piano. For the rest of the evening he made no +attempt to join in the fragmentary conversation. Instead he sang softly, +as if to himself, touching the keys so gently that their notes seemed +only the echo of his mellow voice. He sang bits of Spanish love-songs, +of Mexican lullabies. But for the most part he kept to Indian +melodies--wistful love-songs and chants that touched the listener with +strange poignancy. + +There was little talk among the group around the fire. The three men +smoked peacefully. Katherine and Jack sat close to each other, on the +davenport, content to be together. DeWitt lounged where he could watch +Rhoda, as did Billy Porter, the latter hanging on every word and movement +of this lovely, fragile being, as if he would carry forever in his heart +the memory of her charm. + +Rhoda herself watched the fire. She was tired, tired to the inmost fiber +of her being. The only real desire left her was that she might crawl off +somewhere and die in peace. But these good friends of hers had set their +faces against the inevitable and it was only decency to humor them. +Once, quite unconscious that the others were watching her, she lifted her +hands and eyed them idly. They were almost transparent and shook a +little. The group about the fire stirred pityingly. John and Katherine +and Jack remembered those shadowy hands when they had been rosy and full +of warmth and tenderness. Billy Porter leaned across and with his hard +brown palms pressed the trembling fingers down into Rhoda's lap. She +looked up in astonishment. + +"Don't hold 'em so!" said Billy hoarsely. "I can't stand to see 'em!" + +"They _are_ pretty bad," said Rhoda, smiling. It was her rare, slow, +unforgetable smile. Porter swallowed audibly. Cartwell at the piano +drifted from a Mohave lament to _La Paloma_. + + "The day that I left my home for the rolling sea, + I said, 'Mother dear, O pray to thy God for me!' + But e'er I set sail I went a fond leave to take + Of Nina, who wept as if her poor heart would break!" + +The mellow, haunting melody caught Rhoda's fancy at once, as Cartwell +knew it would. She turned to the sinewy figure at the piano. DeWitt was +wholesome and strong, but this young Indian seemed vitality itself. + + "Nina, if I should die and o'er ocean's foam + Softly at dusk a fair dove should come, + Open thy window, Nina, for it would be + My faithful soul come back to thee----" + +Something in Cartwell's voice stirred Rhoda as had his eyes. For the +first time in months Rhoda felt poignantly that it would be hard to be +cut down with all her life unlived. The mellow voice ceased and +Cartwell, rising, lighted a fresh cigarette. + +"I am going to get up with the rabbits, tomorrow," he said, "so I'll trot +to bed now." + +DeWitt, impelled by that curious sense of liking for the young Indian +that fought down his aversion, said, "The music was bully, Cartwell!" but +Cartwell only smiled as if at the hint of patronage in the voice and +strolled to his own room. + +Rhoda slept late the following morning. She had not, in her three nights +in the desert country, become accustomed to the silence that is not the +least of the desert's splendors. It seemed to her that the nameless +unknown Mystery toward which her life was drifting was embodied in this +infinite silence. So sleep would not come to her until dawn. Then the +stir of the wind in the trees, the bleat of sheep, the trill of +mocking-birds lulled her to sleep. + +As the brilliancy of the light in her room increased there drifted across +her uneasy dreams the lilting notes of a whistled call. Pure and +liquidly sweet they persisted until there came to Rhoda that faint stir +of hope and longing that she had experienced the day before. She opened +her eyes and finally, as the call continued, she crept languidly from her +bed and peered from behind the window-shade. Cartwell, in his khaki +suit, his handsome head bared to the hot sun, leaned against a peach-tree +while he watched Rhoda's window. + +"I wonder what he wakened me for?" she thought half resentfully. "I +can't go to sleep again, so I may as well dress and have breakfast." + +Hardly had she seated herself at her solitary meal when Cartwell appeared. + +"Dear me!" he exclaimed. "The birds and Mr. DeWitt have been up this +long time." + +"What is John doing?" asked Rhoda carelessly. + +"He's gone up on the first mesa for the wildcats I spoke of last night. +I thought perhaps you might care to take a drive before it got too hot. +You didn't sleep well last night, did you?" + +Rhoda answered whimsically. + +"It's the silence. It thunders at me so! I will get used to it soon. +Perhaps I ought to drive. I suppose I ought to try everything." + +Not at all discouraged, apparently, by this lack of enthusiasm, Cartwell +said: + +"I won't let you overdo. I'll have the top-buggy for you and we'll go +slowly and carefully." + +"No," said Rhoda, suddenly recalling that, after all, Cartwell was an +Indian, "I don't think I will go. Katherine will have all sorts of +objections." + +The Indian smiled sardonically. + +"I already have Mrs. Jack's permission. Billy Porter will be in, in a +moment. If you would rather have a white man than an Indian, as escort, +I'm quite willing to retreat." + +Rhoda flushed delicately. + +"Your frankness is almost--almost impertinent, Mr. Cartwell." + +"I don't mean it that way at all!" protested the Indian. "It's just that +I saw so plainly what was going on in your mind and it piqued me. If it +will be one bit pleasanter for you with Billy, I'll go right out and hunt +him up for you now." + +The young man's naivete completely disarmed Rhoda. + +"Don't be silly!" she said. "Go get your famous top-buggy and I'll be +ready in a minute." + +In a short time Rhoda and Cartwell, followed by many injunctions from +Katherine, started off toward the irrigating ditch. At a slow pace they +drove through the peach orchard into the desert. As they reached the +open trail, thrush and to-hee fluttered from the cholla. Chipmunk and +cottontail scurried before them. Overhead a hawk dipped in its reeling +flight. Cartwell watched the girl keenly. Her pale face was very lovely +in the brilliant morning light, though the somberness of her wide, gray +eyes was deepened. That same muteness and patience in her trouble which +so touched other men touched Cartwell, but he only said: + +"There never was anything bigger and finer than this open desert, was +there?" + +Rhoda turned from staring at the distant mesas and eyed the young Indian +wonderingly. + +"Why!" she exclaimed, "I hate it! You know that sick fear that gets you +when you try to picture eternity to yourself? That's the way this +barrenness and awful distance affects me. I hate it!" + +"But you won't hate it!" cried Cartwell. "You must let me show you its +bigness. It's as healing as the hand of God." + +Rhoda shuddered. + +"Don't talk about it, please! I'll try to think of something else." + +They drove in silence for some moments. Rhoda, her thin hands clasped in +her lap, resolutely stared at the young Indian's profile. In the unreal +world in which she drifted, she needed some thought of strength, some +hope beyond her own, to which to cling. She was lonely--lonely as some +outcast watching with sick eyes the joy of the world to which he is +denied. As she stared at the stern young profile beside her, into her +heart crept the now familiar thrill. + +Suddenly Cartwell turned and looked at her quizzically. + +"Well, what are your conclusions?" + +Rhoda shook her head. + +"I don't know, except that it's hard to realize that you are an Indian." + +Cartwell's voice was ironical. + +"The only good Indian is a dead Indian, you know. I'm liable to break +loose any time, believe me!" + +Rhoda's eyes were on the far lavender line where the mesa melted into the +mountains. + +"Yes, and then what?" she asked. + +Cartwell's eyes narrowed, but Rhoda did not see. + +"Then I'm liable to follow Indian tradition and take whatever I want, by +whatever means!" + +"My! My!" said Rhoda, "that sounds bludgy! And what are you liable to +want?" + +"Oh, I want the same thing that a great many white men want. I'm going +to have it myself, though!" His handsome face glowed curiously as he +looked at Rhoda. + +But the girl was giving his words small heed. Her eyes still were turned +toward the desert, as though she had forgotten her companion. Sand +whirls crossed the distant levels, ceaselessly. Huge and menacing, they +swirled out from the mesa's edge, crossed the desert triumphantly, then, +at contact with rock or cholla thicket, collapsed and disappeared. +Endless, merciless, hopeless the yellow desert quivered against the +bronze blue sky. For the first time dazed hopelessness gave way in Rhoda +to fear. The young Indian, watching the girl's face, beheld in it what +even DeWitt never had seen there--beheld deadly fear. He was silent for +a moment, then he leaned toward her and put a strong brown hand over her +trembling little fists. His voice was deep and soft. + +"Don't," he said, "don't!" + +Perhaps it was the subtle, not-to-be-fathomed influence of the desert +which fights all sham; perhaps it was that Rhoda merely had reached the +limit of her heroic self-containment and that, had DeWitt or Newman been +with her, she would have given way in the same manner; perhaps it was +that the young Indian's presence had in it a quality that roused new life +in her. Whatever the cause; the listless melancholy suddenly left +Rhoda's gray eyes and they were wild and black with fear. + +"I can't die!" she panted. "I can't leave my life unlived! I can't +crawl on much longer like a sick animal without a soul. I want to live! +To live!" + +"Look at me!" said Cartwell. "Look at me, not at the desert!" Then as +she turned to him, "Listen, Rhoda! You shall not die! I will make you +well! You shall not die!" + +For a long minute the two gazed deep into each other's eyes, and the +sense of quickening blood touched Rhoda's heart. Then they both woke to +the sound of hoof-beats behind them and John DeWitt, with a wildcat +thrown across his saddle, rode up. + +"Hello! I've shouted one lung out! I thought you people were +petrified!" He looked curiously from Rhoda's white face to Cartwell's +inscrutable one. "Do you think you ought to have attempted this trip, +Rhoda?" he asked gently. + +"Oh, we've taken it very slowly," answered the Indian. "And we are going +to turn back now." + +"I don't think I've overdone," said Rhoda. "But perhaps we have had +enough." + +"All right," said Cartwell. "If Mr. DeWitt will change places with me, +I'll ride on to the ditch and he can drive you back." + +DeWitt assented eagerly and, the change made, Cartwell lifted his hat and +was gone. Rhoda and John returned in a silence that lasted until DeWitt +lifted Rhoda from the buggy to the veranda. Then he said: + +"Rhoda, I don't like to have you go off alone with Cartwell. I wish you +wouldn't." + +Rhoda smiled. + +"John, don't be silly! He goes about with Katherine all the time." + +John only shook his head and changed the subject. That afternoon, +however, Billy Porter buttonholed DeWitt in the corral where the New +Yorker was watching the Arizonian saddle his fractious horse. When the +horse was ready at the post, "Look here, DeWitt," said Billy, an +embarrassed look in his honest brown eyes, "I don't want you to think I'm +buttin' in, but some one ought to watch that young Injun. Anybody with +one eye can see he's crazy about Miss Rhoda." + +John was too startled to be resentful. + +"What do you mean?" he exclaimed. "Cartwell is a great friend of the +Newmans'." + +"That's why I came to you. They're plumb locoed about the fellow, like +the rest of the Easterners around here." + +"Do you know anything against him?" insisted DeWitt. + +"Why, man, he's an Injun, and half Apache at that! That's enough to know +against him!" + +"What makes you think he's interested in Miss Tuttle?" asked John. + +Porter flushed through his tan. + +"Well," he said sheepishly, "I seen him come down the hall at dawn this +morning. Us Westerners are early risers, you know, and when he reached +Miss Turtle's door, he pulled a little slipper out of his pocket and +kissed it and put it in front of the sill." + +DeWitt scowled, then he laughed. + +"He's no worse than the rest of us that way! I'll watch, him, though +perhaps it's only your prejudice against Indians and not really a matter +to worry about." + +Porter sighed helplessly. + +"All right! All right! Just remember, DeWitt, I warned you!" + +He mounted, then held in his horse while the worried look gave place to +one so sad, yet so manly, that John never forgot it. + +"I hope you appreciate that girl, DeWitt. She--she's a thoroughbred! My +God! When you think of a sweet thing like that dying and these Injun +squaws living! I hope you'll watch her, DeWitt. If anything happens to +her through you not watching her, I'll come back on you for it! I ain't +got any rights except the rights that any living man has got to take care +of any white thing like her. They get me hard when they're dainty like +that. And she's the daintiest I ever seen!" + +He rode away, shaking his head ominously. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +INDIAN AND CAUCASIAN + +DeWitt debated with himself for some time as to whether or not he ought +to speak to Jack of Porter's warning. Finally he decided that Porter's +suspicions would only anger Jack, who was intensely loyal to his +friends. He determined to keep silence until he had something more +tangible on which to found his complaint than Billy's bitter prejudice +against all Indians. He had implicit faith in Rhoda's love for +himself. If any vague interest in life could come to her through the +young Indian, he felt that he could endure his presence. In the +meantime he would guard Rhoda without cessation. + +In the days that followed, Rhoda grew perceptibly weaker, and her +friends went about with aching hearts under an assumed cheerfulness of +manner that deceived Rhoda least of any one. Rhoda herself did not +complain and this of itself added a hundredfold to the pathos of the +situation. Her unfailing sweetness and patience touched the healthy, +hardy young people who were so devoted to her more than the most +justifiable impatience on her part. + +Time and again Katherine saw DeWitt and Jack leave the girl's side with +tears in their eyes. But Cartwell watched the girl with inscrutable +gaze. + +Rhoda still hated the desert. The very unchanging loveliness of the +days wearied her. Morning succeeded morning and noon followed noon, +with always the same soft breeze stirring the orchard, always the clear +yellow sunlight burning and dazzling her eyes, always the unvarying +monotony of bleating sheep and lowing herds and at evening the hoot of +owls. The brooding tenderness of the sky she did not see. The +throbbing of the great, quiet southern stars stirred her only with a +sense of helpless loneliness that was all but unendurable. And still, +from who knows what source, she found strength to meet the days and her +friends with that unfailing sweetness that was as poignant as the +clinging fingers of a sick child. + +Jack, Katherine, DeWitt, Cartwell, all were unwearying in their effort +to amuse her. And yet for some reason. Cartwell alone was able to +rouse her listless eyes to interest. Even DeWitt found himself eagerly +watching the young Indian, less to guard Rhoda than to discover what in +the Apache so piqued his curiosity. He had to admit, however +reluctantly, that Kut-le, as he and Rhoda now called him with the +others, was a charming companion. + +Neither DeWitt nor Rhoda ever before had known an Indian. Most of +their ideas of the race were founded on childhood reading of Cooper. +Kut-le was quite as cultured, quite as well-mannered and quite as +intelligent as any of their Eastern friends. But in many other +qualities he differed from them. He possessed a frank pride in himself +and his blood that might have belonged to some medieval prince who +would not take the trouble outwardly to underestimate himself. Closely +allied to this was his habit of truthfulness. This was not a blatant +bluntness that irritated the hearer but a habit of valuing persons and +things at their intrinsic worth, a habit of mental honesty as bizarre +to Rhoda and John as was the young Indian's frank pride. + +His attitude toward Rhoda piqued her while it amused her. Since her +childhood, men had treated her with deference, had paid almost abject +tribute to her loveliness and bright charm. Cartwell was delightfully +considerate of her. He was uniformly courteous to her. But it was the +courtesy of _noblesse oblige_, without a trace of deference in it. + +One afternoon Kut-le sat alone on the veranda with Rhoda. + +"Do you know," he said, rumpling his black hair, "that I think DeWitt +has decided that I will bear watching!" + +"Well," answered Rhoda idly, "and won't you?" + +Kut-le chuckled. + +"Would you prefer that I show the lurking savage beneath this false +shell of good manners?" + +Rhoda smiled back at him. + +"Of course you are an Indian, after all. It's rather too bad of you +not to live up to any of our ideals. Your manners are as nice as John +DeWitt's. I'd be quite frantic about you if you would drop them and go +on the war-path." + +Kut-le threw back his head and laughed. + +"Oh, you ignorant young thing! It's lucky for you--and for me--that +you have come West to grow up and complete your education! But DeWitt +needn't worry. I don't need watching yet! First, I'm going to make +you well. I know how and he doesn't. After that is done, he'd better +watch!" + +Rhoda's eyebrows began to go up. Kut-le never had recalled by word or +look her outburst in the desert the morning of their first ride +together, though they had taken several since. Rhoda seldom mentioned +her illness now and her friends respected her feeling. But now Kut-le +smiled at her disapproving brows. + +"I've waited for the others to get busy," he said, "but they act +foolish. Half the trouble with you is mental. You need a boss. Now, +you don't eat enough, in spite of the eggs and beef and fruit that that +dear Mrs. Jack sets before you. See how your hands shake this minute!" + +Rhoda could think of no reply sufficiently crushing for this forward +young Indian. While she was turning several over in her mind, Kut-le +went into the house and returned with a glass of milk. + +"I wish you'd drink this," he said. + +Rhoda's brows still were arched haughtily. + +"No, thank you," she said frigidly; "I don't wish you to undertake the +care of my health." + +Kut-le made no reply but held the glass steadily before her. +Involuntarily, Rhoda looked up. The young Indian was watching her with +eyes so clear, so tender, with that strange look of tragedy belying +their youth, with that something so compelling in their quiet depths, +that once more her tired pulses quickened. Rhoda looked from Kut-le +out to the twisting sand-whirls, then she took the glass of milk and +drank it. She would not have done this for any of the others and both +she and Kut-le knew it. Thereafter, he deliberately set himself to +watching her and it seemed as if he must exhaust his ingenuity devising +means for her comfort. Slowly Rhoda acquired a definite interest in +the young Indian. + +"Are you really civilized, Kut-le?" she asked one afternoon when the +young man had brought a little white desert owl to her hammock for her +inspection. + +Kut-le tossed the damp hair from his forehead and looked at the sweet +wistful face against the crimson pillows. For a moment Rhoda felt as +if his young strength enveloped her like the desert sun. + +"Why?" he asked at last. "You said the other day that I was too much +civilized." + +"I know, but--" Rhoda hesitated for words, "I'm too much civilized +myself to understand, but sometimes there's a look in your eyes that +something, I suppose it's a forgotten instinct, tells me means that you +are wild to let all this go--" she waved a thin hand toward cultivated +fields and corral--"and take to the open desert." + +Kut-le said nothing for a moment, though his face lighted with joy at +her understanding. Then he turned toward the desert and Rhoda saw the +look of joy change to one so full of unutterable longing that her heart +was stirred to sudden pity. However, an instant later, he turned to +her with the old impassive expression. + +"Right beneath my skin," he said, "is the Apache. Tell me, Miss Rhoda, +what's the use of it all?" + +"Use?" asked Rhoda, staring at the blue sky above the peach-trees. "I +am a fit person to ask what is the use of anything! Of course, +civilization is the only thing that lives. I can't get your point of +view at all." + +"Huh!" sniffed Kut-le. "It's too bad Indians don't write books! If my +people had been putting their internal mechanism on paper for a +thousand years, you'd have no more trouble getting my point of view +than I do yours." + +Rhoda's face as she eyed the stern young profile was very sympathetic. +Kut-le, turning to her, surprised upon her face that rare, tender smile +for which all who knew her watched. His face flushed and his fine +hands clasped and unclasped. + +"Tell me about it, Kut-le, if you can." + +"I can't tell you. The desert would show you its own power if you +would give it a chance. No one can describe the call to you. I +suppose if I answered it and went back, you would call it +retrogression?" + +"What would you call it?" asked Rhoda. + +"I don't know. It would depend on my mood. I only know that the ache +is there." His eyes grew somber and beads of sweat appeared on his +forehead. "The ache to be there--free in the desert! To feel the hot +sun in my face as I work the trail! To sleep with the naked stars in +my face! To be-- Oh, I can't make you understand, and I'd rather you +understood than any one in the world! You could understand, if only +you were desert-taught. When you are well and strong--" + +"But why don't you go back?" interrupted Rhoda. + +"Because," replied Kut-le slowly, "the Indian is dying. I hope that by +living as a white, I may live. Up till recently I have worked blindly +and hopelessly, but now I see light." + +"Do you?" asked Rhoda with interest. "What have you found?" + +"It isn't mine yet." Kut-le looked at the girl exultantly and there +was a triumphant note in his voice. "But it shall be mine! I will +make it mine! And it is worth the sacrifice of my race." + +A vague look of surprise crossed Rhoda's face but she spoke calmly: + +"To sacrifice one's race is a serious thing. I can't think of anything +that would make that worth while. Here comes Mr. DeWitt. It must be +dinner time. John, come up and see a little desert owl at close range. +Kut-le has all the desert at his beck and call!" + +Kut-le persuaded Rhoda to change the morning rides, which seemed only +to exhaust her, to the shortest of evening strolls. Nearly always +DeWitt accompanied them. Sometimes they went alone, though John was +never very far distant. + +One moonlit night Kut-le and Rhoda stood alone at the corral bars. The +whole world was radiant silver moonlight on the desert, on the +undulating alfalfa; moonlight filtering through the peach-trees and +shimmering on Rhoda's drooping head as she leaned against the bars in +the weary attitude habitual to her. Kut-le stood before her, erect and +strong in his white flannels. His handsome head was thrown back a +little, as was his custom when speaking earnestly. His arms were +folded across his deep chest and he stood so still that Rhoda could see +his arms rise and fall with his breath. + +"It really is great work!" he was saying eagerly. "It seems to me that +a civil engineer has tremendous opportunities to do really big things. +Some of Kipling's stories of them are bully." + +"Aren't they!" answered Rhoda sympathetically. + +"There is a big thing in my favor too. The whites make no +discrimination against an Indian in the professions. In fact every one +gives him a boost in passing!" + +"Why shouldn't they? You have as good a brain and are as attractive as +any man of my acquaintance!" + +The young man drew a quick breath. + +"Do you really mean that?" + +"Of course! Why shouldn't I? Isn't the moonlight uncanny on the +desert?" + +But Kut-le did not heed her attempt to change the subject. + +"There are unlimited opportunities for me to make good, now that the +government is putting up so many dams. I believe that I can go to the +top with any man, don't you, Miss Rhoda?" + +"I do, indeed!" replied Rhoda sincerely. + +"Well, then, Miss Rhoda, will you marry me?" + +Rhoda raised her head in speechless amazement. + +Kut-le's glowing eyes contracted. + +"You are not surprised!" he exclaimed a little fiercely, "You must have +seen how it has been with me ever since you came. And you have been +so--so bully to me!" + +Rhoda looked helplessly into the young man's face. She was so fragile +that she seemed but an evanescent part of the moonlight. + +"But," she said slowly, "you must know that this is impossible. I +couldn't think of marrying you, Kut-le!" + +There was a moment's silence. An owl called from the desert. The +night wind swept from the fragrant orchard. When he spoke again, +Kut-le's voice was husky. + +"Is it because I am an Indian?" + +"Yes," answered Rhoda, "partly. But I don't love you, anyhow." + +"But," eagerly, "if you did love me, would my being an Indian make any +difference? Isn't my blood pure? Isn't it old?" + +Rhoda stood still. The pain in Kut-le's voice was piercing through to +the shadow world in which she lived. Her voice was troubled. + +"But I don't love you, so what's the use of considering the rest? If I +ever marry any one it will be John DeWitt." + +"But couldn't you," insisted the tragically deep voice, "couldn't you +ever love me?" + +Rhoda answered wearily. One could not, it seemed, even die in peace! + +"I can't think of love or marriage any more. I am a dying woman. Let +me go into the mist, Kut-le, without a pang for our friendship, with +just the pleasant memory of your goodness to me. Surely you cannot +love me as I am!" + +"I love you for the wonderful possibilities I see in you. I love you +in spite of your illness. I will make you well before I marry you. +The Indian in me has strength to make you well. And I will cherish you +as white men cherish their wives." + +Rhoda raised her hand commandingly and in her voice was that boundless +vanity of the white, which is as old as the race. + +"No! No! Don't speak of this again! You are an Indian but one +removed from savagery. I am a white! I couldn't think of marrying +you!" Then her tender heart failed her and her voice trembled. "But +still I am your friend, Kut-le. Truly I am your friend." + +The Indian was silent so long that Rhoda was a little frightened. Then +he spoke slowly. + +"Yes, you are white and I am red. But before all that, you are a woman +of exquisite possibilities and I am a man who by all of nature's laws +would make a fitting mate for you. You can love me, when you are well, +as you could love no other man. And I--dear one, I love you +passionately! I love you tenderly! I love you enough to give up my +race for you. I am an Indian, Rhoda, but first of all I am a man. +Rhoda, will you marry me?" + +A thrill, poignant, heart-stirring, beat through Rhoda's veins. For +one unspeakable moment there swept through her spirit a vision of +strength, of beauty, of gladness, too wild and sweet for words. Then +came the old sense of race distaste and she looked steadily into the +young man's face. + +"I cannot marry you, Kut-le," she said. + +Kut-le said nothing more. He stood staring at the far desert, his fine +face somber and with a look of determination in the contracted eyes and +firm-set lips that made Rhoda shiver, even while her heart throbbed +with pity. Tall, slender, inscrutable, as alien to her understanding +as the call of the desert wind or the moon-drenched desert haze, she +turned away and left him standing there alone. + +She made her slow way to the ranch-house. Kut-le did not follow. +Rhoda went to bed at once. Yet she could not sleep, for through the +silence Kut-le's deep voice beat on her ears. + +"I love you passionately! I love you tenderly! I am an Indian, but +first of all I am a man!" + +The next day and for the three or four days following, Kut-le was +missing. The Newmans were worried. The ditch needed its engineer and +never before had Kut-le been known to neglect his work. Once a year he +went on a long hunt with chosen friends of his tribe, but never until +his work was finished. + +Rhoda confided in no one regarding her last interview with the Indian. +She missed Kut-le, but DeWitt was frankly relieved. For the first time +since Porter's warning he relaxed his vigilance. On the fifth evening +after Kut-le's disappearance, Jack and DeWitt rode over to a +neighboring ranch. Katherine was lazy with a headache. So Rhoda took +her evening stroll alone. For once, she left the orchard and wandered +out into the open desert, moved by an uncanny desire to let the full +horror of the desert mystery sweep over her. + +How long she sat on a rock, gazing into infinity, she did not know. It +seemed to her that her whole shivering, protesting body was being +absorbed into the strange radiance of the afterglow. At last she rose. +As she did so, a tall figure loomed silently before her. Rhoda was too +startled to scream. The figure was that of an Indian, naked save for +high moccasins and a magnificently decorated loin-cloth. The man +looked down at her with the smile of good fellowship that she knew so +well. It was Kut-le, standing like a young bronze god against the +faint pink of the afterglow. + +"Hello!" he said nonchalantly. "I've been watching for you." + +"What do you want!" gasped Rhoda. "What do you mean by coming before +me in--in--" + +"You mean when I'm dressed as a chief on the warpath? Well, you said +you'd be keen about me this way; so here I am. I tried all the white +methods I knew to win you and failed. Now the only thing left is the +Indian method." + +Rhoda moved uneasily. + +Kut-le went on: + +"As a white man I can no longer pester you. As an Indian I can steal +you and marry you." + +Rhoda struggled to make him and his words seem real to her. + +"You aren't going to be so absurd as to try to steal me, I hope!" she +tried to laugh. + +"That's just what I'm going to do!" answered Kut-le. "If I steal as a +white would steal, I would be caught at once. If I use Apache methods, +no white on earth can catch me." + +Rhoda gasped as the Indian's evident sincerity sank in on her. + +"But," she pleaded, fighting for time, "you can't want to marry me by +force! Don't you know that I shall grow to loathe you?" + +"No! No!" answered the Indian earnestly. "Not after I've shown you +life as I have seen it." + +"Nonsense!" cried Rhoda. "Don't you realize that the whole county will +be after you by morning?" + +Kut-le laughed, deliberately walked up to the girl and lifted her in +his arms as he had on the morning of their meeting. Rhoda gave one +scream and struggled frantically. He slid a hand over her lips and +tightened his hold. For a moment Rhoda lay motionless in abject fear, +then, with a muffled cry of utter helplessness, a cry that would have +driven a white man mad with pity, she slipped into unconsciousness. +Kut-le walked on for a short distance to a horse. He put Rhoda in the +saddle and fastened her there with a blanket. He slipped off the +twisted bandana that bound his short black hair, fillet wise, and tied +it carefully over Rhoda's mouth. Then with one hand steadying the +quiet shoulders, he started the horse on through the dusk. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE INDIAN WAY + +It was some time before the call of a coyote close beside her +penetrated Rhoda's senses. At its third or fourth repetition, she +sighed and opened her eyes. Night had come, the luminous lavender +night of the desert. Her first discovery was that she was seated on a +horse, held firmly by a strong arm across her shoulders. Next she +found that her uneasy breathing was due to the cloth tied round her +mouth. With this came realization of her predicament and she tossed +her arms in a wild attempt to free herself. + +The arm about her tightened, the horse stopped, and the voice went on +repeating the coyote call, clearly, mournfully. Rhoda ceased her +struggling for a moment and looked at the face so close to her own. In +the starlight only the eyes and the dim outline of the features were +visible, and the eyes were as dark and menacing to her as the desert +night that shut her in. + +Mad with fear, Rhoda strained at the rigid arm. Kut-le dropped the +reins and held her struggling hands, ceased his calling and waited. +Off to the left came an answering call and Kut-le started the pony +rapidly toward the sound. In a few moments Rhoda saw a pair of +horsemen. Utterly exhausted, she sat in terror awaiting her fate. +Kut-le gave a low-voiced order. One of the riders immediately rode +forward, leading another horse. Kut-le slipped another blanket from +this and finished binding Rhoda to her saddle so securely that she +scarcely could move a finger. Then he mounted his horse, and he and +one of the Indians started off, leading Rhoda's horse between them and +leaving the third Indian standing silently behind them. + +Rhoda was astride of the pony, half sitting, half lying along his neck. +The Indians put the horses to a trot and immediately the discomfort of +her position was made agony by the rough motion. But the pain cleared +her mind. + +Her first thought was that she never would recover from the disgrace of +this episode. Following this thought came fury at the man who was so +outraging her. It only he would free her hands for a moment she would +choke him! Her anger would give her strength for that! Then she +fought against her fastenings. They held her all but motionless and +the sense of her helplessness brought back the fear panic. Utterly +helpless, she thought! Flying through darkness to an end worse than +death! In the power of a naked savage! Her fear almost robbed her of +her reason. + +After what seemed to her endless hours, the horses were stopped +suddenly. She felt her fastenings removed. Then Kut-le lifted her to +the ground where she tumbled, helpless, at his feet. He stooped and +took the gag from her mouth. Immediately with what fragment of +strength remained to her, she screamed again and again. The two +Indians stood stolidly watching her for a time, then Kut-le knelt in +the sand beside her huddled form and laid his hand on her arm. + +"There, Rhoda," he said, "no one can hear you. You will only make +yourself sick." + +Rhoda struck his hand feebly. + +"Don't touch me!" she cried hoarsely. "Don't touch me, you beast! I +loathe you! I am afraid of you! Don't you dare to touch me!" + +At this Kut-le imprisoned both her cold hands in one of his warm palms +and held them despite her struggles, while with the other hand he +smoothed her tumbled hair from her eyes. + +"Poor frightened little girl," he said, in his rich voice. "I wish I +might have done otherwise. But there was no other way. I don't know +that I believe much in your God but I guess you do. So I tell you, +Rhoda, that by your faith in Him, you are absolutely safe in my hands!" + +Rhoda caught her breath in a childlike sob while she sstill struggled +to recover her hands. + +"I loathe you!" she panted. "I loathe you! I loathe you!" + +But Kut-le would not free the cold little hands. + +"But do you fear me, too? Answer me! Do you fear me?" + +The moon had risen and Rhoda looked into the face that bent above hers. +This was a naked savage with hawk-like face. Yet the eyes were the +ones that she had come to know so well, half tragic, somber, but clear +and, toward her, tender, very, very tender. With a shuddering sigh, +Rhoda looked away. But against her own volition she found herself +saying: + +"I'm not afraid now! But I loathe you, you Apache Indian!" + +Something very like a smile touched the grim mouth of the Apache. + +"I don't hate you, you Caucasian!" he answered quietly. + +He chafed the cold hands for a moment, in silence. Then he lifted her +to her saddle. But Rhoda was beyond struggle, beyond even clinging to +the saddle. Kut-le caught her as she reeled. + +"Don't tie me!" she panted. "Don't tie me! I won't fight! I won't +even scream, if you won't tie me!" + +"But you can't sit your saddle alone," replied Kut-le. "I'll have to +tie you." + +Once more he lifted her to the horse. Once more with the help of his +silent companion he fastened her with blankets. Once more the journey +was begun. For a little while, distraught and uncertain what course to +pursue, Rhoda endured the misery of position and motion in silence. +Then the pain was too much and she cried out in protest. Kut-le +brought the horses to a walk. + +"You certainly have about as much spunk as a chicken with the pip!" he +said contemptuously. "I should think your loathing would brace you up +a little!" + +Stung by the insult to a sudden access of strength, as the Indian had +intended her to be, Rhoda answered, "You beast!" but as the horses +swung into the trot she made no protest for a long hour. Then once +more her strength failed her and she fell to crying with deep-drawn +sobs that shook her entire body. After a few moments of this, Kut-le +drew close to her. + +"Don't!" he said huskily. "Don't!" And again he laid his hand on her +shoulder. + +Rhoda shuddered but could not cease her sobs. Kut-le seemed to +hesitate for a few moments. Then he reached over, undid Rhoda's +fastenings and lifted her limp body to the saddle before him, holding +her against his broad chest as if he were coddling a child. Then he +started the horses on. Too exhausted to struggle, Rhoda lay sobbing +while the young Indian sat with his tragic eyes fastened steadily on +the mysterious distances of the trail. Finally Rhoda sank into a +stupor and, seeing this, Kut-le doubled the speed of the horses. + +It was daylight when Rhoda opened her eyes. For a time she lay at ease +listening to the trill of birds and the trickle of water. Then, with a +start, she raised her head. She was lying on a heap of blankets on a +stone ledge. Above her was the boundless sapphire of the sky. Close +beside her a little spring bubbled from the blank wall of the mountain. +Rhoda lay in helpless silence, looking about her, while the appalling +nature of her predicament sank into her consciousness. + +Against the wall squatted two Indian women. They were dressed in rough +short skirts, tight-fitting calico waists and high leather moccasins. +Their black hair was parted in the middle and hung free. Their swarthy +features were well cut but both of the women were dirty and ill kept. +The younger, heavier squaw had a kindly face, with good eyes, but her +hair was matted with clay and her fingers showed traces of recent +tortilla making. The older woman was lean and wiry, with a strange +gleam of maliciousness and ferocity in her eyes. Her forehead was +elaborately tattooed with symbols and her toothless old jaws were +covered with blue tribal lines. + +Kut-le and his friend of the night lounged on a heap of rock at the +edge of the ledge. The strange Indian was well past middle age, tall +and dignified. He was darker than Kut-le. His face was thin and +aquiline. His long hair hung in elf locks over his shoulders. His +toilet was elaborate compared with that of Kut-le, for he wore a pair +of overalls and a dilapidated flannel shirt, unbelted and fluttering +its ends in the morning breeze. As if conscious of her gaze, Kut-le +turned and looked at Rhoda. His magnificent height and proportions +dwarfed the tall Indian beside him. + +"Good-morning, Rhoda!" he said gravely. + +The girl looked at the beautiful naked body and reddened. + +"You beast!" she said clearly. + +Kut-le looked at her with slightly contracted eyes. Then he spoke to +the fat squaw. She rose hastily and lifted a pot from the little fire +beside the spring. She dipped a steaming cup of broth from this and +brought it to Rhoda's side. The girl struck it away. Kut-le walked +slowly over, picked up the empty cup at which the squaw stood staring +stupidly and filled it once more at the kettle. Then he held it out to +Rhoda. His nearness roused the girl to frenzy. With difficulty she +brought her stiffened body to a sitting position. Her beautiful gray +eyes were black with her sense of outrage. + +"Take it away, beast!" she panted. + +Kut-le held her gaze. + +"Drink it, Rhoda!" he said quietly. + +The girl returned his look for a moment then, hating herself for her +weakness, she took the cup and drained it. Kut-le tossed the cup to +the squaw, pushed Rhoda back to her blankets and covered her very +gently. Then he went back to his boulder. The girl lay staring up at +the sky. Utterly merciless it gleamed above her. But before she could +more than groan she was asleep. + +She slept as she had not slept for months. The slanting rays of the +westering sun wakened her. She sat up stiffly. The squaws were +unpacking a burlap bag. They were greasy and dirty but they were women +and their nearness gave Rhoda a vague sense of protection. They in +turn gazed at the tangled glory of her hair, at the hopeless beauty of +her eyes, at the pathos of the drooping mouth, with unfeigned curiosity. + +Kut-le still was watching the desert. The madness of the night before +had lifted a little, leaving Rhoda with some of her old poise. After +several attempts she rose and made her staggering way to Kut-le's side. + +"Kut-le," she said, "perhaps you will tell me what you mean by this +outrage?" + +The young Indian, turned to her. White and exhausted, heavy hair in +confusion, Rhoda still was lovely. + +"You seem to have more interest in life," he said, "than you have had +since I have known you. I thought the experiment would have that +effect!" + +"You brute!" cried Rhoda. "Can't you see how silly you are? You will +be caught and lynched before the day is passed." + +Kut-le smiled. + +"Pshaw! Three Apaches can outwit a hundred white men on the trail!" + +Rhoda caught her breath. + +"Oh, Kut-le, how could you do this thing! How could you! I am +disgraced forever! Let me go, Kut-le! Let me go! I'll not even ask +you for a horse. Just let me go by myself!" + +"You are better off with me. You will acknowledge that, yourself, +before I am through with you." + +"Better off!" Rhoda's appalled eyes cut the Indian deeper than words. +"Better off! Why, Kut-le, I am a dying woman! You will just have to +leave me dead beside the trail somewhere. Look at me! Look at my +hands! See how emaciated I am! See how I tremble! I am a sick wreck, +Kut-le. You cannot want me! Let me go! Try, try to remember all that +you learned of pity from the whites! O Kut-le, let me go!" + +"I haven't forgotten what I learned from the whites," replied the young +man. He looked off at the desert with a quiet smile. "Now I want the +whites to learn from me. + +"But can't you see what a futile game you are playing? John DeWitt and +Jack must be on your trail now!" + +There was a cruel gleam in the Apache's eyes. + +"Don't be too sure! They are going to spend a few days looking for the +foolish Eastern girl who took a stroll and lost her way in the desert. +How can they dream that you are stolen?" + +Rhoda wrung her hands. + +"What shall I do! What shall I do! What an awful, awful thing to come +to me! As if life had not been hard enough! This catastrophe! This +disgrace!" + +Kut-le eyed her speculatively. + +"It's all race prejudice, you know. I have the education of the white +with the intelligence and physical perfection of the Indian; DeWitt is +nowhere near my equal." + +Rhoda's eyes blazed. + +"Don't speak of DeWitt! You're not fit to!" + +"Yet," very quietly, "you said the other night that I had as good a +brain and was as attractive as any man of your acquaintance!" + +"I was a fool!" exclaimed Rhoda. + +Kut-le rose and took a stride or two up and down the ledge. Then he +folded his arms across his chest and stopped before Rhoda, who leaned +weakly against the boulder. + +"I am going to tell you what my ideas are," he said. "You are +intelligent and will understand me no matter how bitter my words may +make you at first. Now look here. Lots of white men are in love with +you. Even Billy Porter went off his head. But I guess DeWitt is a +pretty fair sample of the type of men you drew, well educated, strong, +well-bred and Eastern to the backbone. And they love you as you are, +delicate, helpless, appealing, thoroughbred, but utterly useless! + +"Except that they hate to see you suffer, they wouldn't want you to +change. Now I love you for the possibilities that I see in you. I +wouldn't think of marrying you as you are. It would be an insult to my +good blood. Your beauty is marred by your illness. You have +absolutely no sense of responsibility toward life. You think that life +owes everything to you, that you pay your way with your beauty. If you +didn't die, but married DeWitt, you would go on through life petted and +babied, bridge-playing and going out to lectures, childless, +incompetent, self-satisfied--and an utter failure! + +"Now I think that humans owe everything to life and that women owe the +most of all because they make the race. The more nature has done for +them, the more they owe. I believe that you are a thousand times worth +saving. I am going to keep you out here in the desert until you wake +to your responsibility to yourself and to life. I am going to strip +your veneering of culture from you and make you see yourself as you are +and life as it is--life, big and clean and glorious, with its one big +tenet: keep body and soul right and reproduce your kind. I am going to +make you see bigger things in this big country than you ever dreamed +of." + +He stopped and Rhoda sat appalled, the Indian watching her. To relieve +herself from his eyes Rhoda turned toward the desert. The sun had all +but touched the far horizon. Crimson and gold, purple and black, +desert and sky merged in one unspeakable glory. But Rhoda saw only +emptiness, only life's cruelty and futility and loneliness. And once +more she wrung her feeble hands. + +Kut-le spoke to Molly, the fat squaw. She again brought Rhoda a cup of +broth. This time Rhoda drank it mechanically, then sat in abject +wretchedness awaiting the next move of her tormentor. She had not long +to wait. Kut-le took a bundle from his saddle and began to unfasten it +before Rhoda. + +"You must get into some suitable clothes," he said. "Put these on." + +Rhoda stared at the clothing Kut-le was shaking out. Then she gave him +a look of disgust. There was a pair of little buckskin breeches, +exquisitely tanned, a little blue flannel shirt, a pair of high-laced +hunting boots and a sombrero. She made no motion toward taking the +clothes. + +"Can't you see," Kut-le went on, "that, at the least, you will be in my +power for a day or two, that you must ride and that the clothes you +have on are simply silly? Why not be as comfortable as possible, under +the circumstances?" + +The girl, with the conventions of ages speaking in her disgusted face, +the savage with his perfect physique bespeaking ages of undistorted +nature, eyed each other narrowly. + +"I shall keep on my own clothes," said Rhoda distinctly. "Believe me, +you alone give the party the primitive air you admire!" + +Kut-le's jaw hardened. + +"Rhoda Tuttle, unless you put these clothes on at once I shall call the +squaws and have them put on you by force." + +Into Rhoda's face came a look of despair. Slowly she put out a shaking +hand and took the clothes. + +"I can't argue against a brute," she said. "The men I have known have +been gentlemen. Tell one of your filthy squaws to come and help me." + +"Molly! _Pronto_!" Like a brown lizard the fat squaw scuttled to +Rhoda's side. + +In a little dressing-room formed by fallen rock, Rhoda put on the boy's +clothing. Molly helped the girl very gently. When she was done she +smoothed the blue-shirted shoulder complacently. + +"Heap nice!" she said. "Make 'em sick squaw heap warm. You no 'fraid! +Kut-le say cut off nose, kill 'em with cactus torture, if Injuns not +good to white squaw." + +The touch was the touch of a woman and Molly, though a squaw, had a +woman's understanding. Rhoda gave a little sob. + +"Kut-le, he good!" Molly went on. "He a big chief's son. He strong, +rich. You no be afraid. You look heap pretty." + +Involuntarily Rhoda glanced at herself. The new clothes were very +comfortable. With the loveliness and breeding that neither clothing +nor circumstance could mar, Rhoda was a fascinating figure. She was +tall for a woman, but now she looked a mere lad. The buckskin clung +like velvet. The high-laced boots came to her knees. The sombrero +concealed all of the golden hair save for short curling locks in front. +She would have charmed a painter, Kut-le thought, as she stepped from +her dressing-room; but he kept his voice coolly impersonal. + +"All right, you're in shape to travel, now. Where are your other +clothes? Molly, bring them all here!" + +Rhoda, followed the squaw and together they folded the cast-off +clothing. Rhoda saw that her scarf had blown near the canon edge. A +quick thought came to her. Molly was fully occupied with muttering +adoration of the dainty underwear. Rhoda tied a pebble into the scarf +and dropped it far out into the depths below. Then she returned to +Molly. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE PURSUIT + +As twilight deepened, Katherine lay in the hammock thankful for the +soothing effect of the darkness on her aching eyes. She felt a little +troubled about Kut-le. She was very fond of the young Indian. She +understood him as did no one else, perhaps, and had the utmost faith in +his honor and loyalty. She suspected that Rhoda had had much to do +with the young Indian's sudden departure and she felt irritated with +the girl, though at the same time she acknowledged that Rhoda had done +only what she, Katherine, had advised--had treated Kut-le as if he had +been a white man! + +She watched the trail for Rhoda's return but darkness came and there +was no sign of the frail figure. A little disturbed, she walked to the +corral bars and looked down to the lights of the cowboys' quarters. If +only John DeWitt and Jack would return! But she did not expect them +before midnight. She returned to the house and telephoned to the ranch +foreman. + +"Don't you worry, ma'am," he answered cheerily. "No harm could come to +her! She just walked till it got dark and is just starting for home +now, I bet! She can't have got out of sight of the ranch lights." + +"But she may have! You can't tell what she's done, she's such a +tenderfoot," insisted Katherine nervously. "She may have been hurt!" + +It was well that Katherine could not see the foreman's face during the +conversation. It had a decided scowl of apprehension, but he managed a +cheerful laugh. + +"Well, you _have_ got nervous, Mrs. Newman! I'll just send three or +four of the boys out to meet her. Eh?" + +"Oh, yes, do!" cried Katherine. "I shall feel easier. Good-by!" + +Dick Freeman dropped the receiver and hurried into the neighboring +bunk-house. + +"Boys," he said quietly, "Mrs. Newman just 'phoned me that Miss Tuttle +went to walk at sunset, to be gone half an hour. She ain't got back +yet. She is alone. Will some of you come with me?" + +Every hand of cards was dropped before Dick was half through his +statement. In less than twenty minutes twenty cowboys were circling +slowly out into the desert. For two hours Katherine paced from the +living-room to the veranda, from the veranda to the corral. She +changed her light evening gown to her khaki riding habit. Her +nervousness grew to panic. She sent Li Chung to bed, then she paced +the lawn, listening, listening. + +At last she heard the thud of hoofs and Dick Freeman dismounted in the +light that streamed from the open door. + +"We haven't found her, Mrs. Newman. Has Mr. Newman got back? I think +we must get up an organized search." + +Katherine could feel her heart thump heavily. + +"No, he hasn't. Have you found her trail?" + +"No; it's awful hard to trail in the dark, and the desert for miles +around the ranch is all cut up with footprints and hoof-marks, you +know." + +Katherine wrung her hands. + +"Oh, poor little Rhoda!" she cried. "What shall we do!" + +"No harm can come to her," insisted Dick. "She will know enough to sit +tight till daylight, then we will have her before the heat gets up." + +"Oh, if she only will!" moaned Katherine. "Do whatever you think best, +Dick, and I'll send Jack and John DeWitt to you as soon as they return." + +Dick swung himself to the saddle again. + +"Better go in and read something, Mrs. Newman. You mustn't worry +yourself sick until you are sure you have something to worry about." + +How she passed the rest of the night, Katherine never knew. A little +after midnight, Jack came in, his face tense and anxious. Katherine +paled as she saw his expression. She knew he had met some of the +searchers. When Jack saw the color leave his wife's pretty cheeks, he +kissed her very tenderly and for a moment they clung to each other +silently, thinking of the delicate girl adrift on the desert. + +"Where is John DeWitt?" asked Katherine after a moment. + +"He's almost crazy. He's with Dick Freeman. Only stopped for a fresh +horse." + +"They have no trace?" questioned Katherine. + +Jack shook his head. + +"You know what a proposition it is to hunt for as small an object as a +human, in the desert. Give me your smelling salts and the little +Navajo blanket. One--one can't tell whether she's hurt or not." + +Katherine began to sob as she obeyed. + +"You are all angel good not to blame me, but I know it's my fault. I +shouldn't have let her go. But she is so sensible, usually." + +"Dear heart!" said Jack, rolling up the Navajo. "Any one that knows +dear old Rhoda knows that what she will, she will, and you are not to +blame. Go to bed and sleep if you can." + +"Oh, Jack, I can't! Let me go with you, do!" + +But Jack shook his head. + +"You aren't strong enough to do any good and some one must stay here to +run things." + +So again Katherine was left to pace the veranda. All night the search +went on. Jack sent messages to the neighboring ranches and the +following morning fifty men were in the saddle seeking Rhoda's trail. +Jack also sent into the Pueblo country for Kut-le, feeling that his aid +would be invaluable. It would take some time to get a reply from the +Indians and in the meantime the search went on rigorously, with no +trace of the trail to be found. + +John DeWitt did not return to the ranch until the afternoon after +Rhoda's disappearance. Then, disheveled, with bloodshot eyes, cracked +lips and blistered face, he dropped exhausted on the veranda steps. +Katherine and Jack greeted him with quiet sympathy. + +"I came in to get fixed up for a long cruise," said John. "My pony +went lame, and I want a flannel shirt instead of this silk thing I had +on last night. I wish to God Kut-le would come! I suppose he could +read what we are blind to." + +"You bet!" cried Jack. "I expect an answer from his friends this +afternoon. I just had a telegram from Porter, in answer to one I sent +him this morning. I caught him at Brown's and he will be here this +afternoon. He knows almost as much as an Indian about following a +trail." + +They all spoke in the hushed tones one employs in the sick-room. Jack +tried to persuade DeWitt to eat and sleep but he refused, his forced +calm giving way to a hoarse, "For heaven's sake, can I rest when she is +dying out there!" + +John had not finished his feverish preparations when Billy Porter +stalked into the living-room. As he entered, the telephone rang and +Jack answered it. Then he returned to the eager group. + +"Kut-le has gone on a long hunt with some of his people. They don't +know where he went and refuse to look for him." + +Billy Porter gave a hard, mirthless laugh. + +"Why certainly! Jack, you ought to have a hole bored into your head to +let in a little light. Kut-le gone. Can't find Rhoda's trail. Kut-le +in love with Rhoda. Kut-le an Indian. Rhoda refuses him--he goes +off--gets some of his chums and when he catches Rhoda alone he steals +her. He will keep a man behind, covering his trail. Oh, you easy +Easterners make me sick!" + +The Newmans and DeWitt stood staring at Porter with horror in their +eyes. The clock ticked for an instant then DeWitt gave a groan and +bowed his head against the mantelpiece. Katherine ran to him and tried +to pull his head to her little shoulder. + +"O John, don't! Don't! Maybe Billy is right. I'm afraid he is! But +one thing I do know. Rhoda is as safe in Kut-le's hands as she would +be in Jack's. I know it, John!" + +John did not move, but at Katherine's words the color came back into +Jack Newman's face. + +"That's right!" he said stoutly. "It's a devilish thing for Kut-le to +do. But she's safe, John, old boy, I'm sure she is." + +Billy Porter, conscience-stricken at the effect of his words, clapped +John on the shoulder. + +"Aw shucks! I let my Injun hate get the best of my tongue. Of course +she's safe enough; only the darn devil's got to be caught before he +gets to Mexico and makes some padre marry 'em. So it's us to the +saddle a whole heap." + +"We'd better get an Indian to help trail," said Jack. + +"You'll have a sweet time getting an Injun to trail Kut-le!" said +Porter. "The Injuns half worship him. They think he's got some kind +of strong medicine; you know that. You get one and he'll keep you off +the trail instead of on. I can follow the trail as soon as he quits +covering it. Get the canteens and come on. We don't need a million +cowboys running round promiscuous over the sand. Numbers don't help in +trailing an Injun. It's experience and patience. It may take us two +weeks and we'll outfit for that. But we'll get him in the end. Crook +always did." + +There was that in Billy Porter's voice which put heart into his +listeners. John DeWitt lifted his head, and while his blue eyes +returned the gaze of the others miserably, he squared his shoulders +doggedly. + +"I'm ready," he said briefly. + +"Oh, let me come!" cried Katherine. "I can't bear this waiting!" + +Billy smiled. + +"Why, Mrs. Jack, you'd be dried up and blowed away before the first day +was over." + +"But Rhoda is enduring it!" protested Katherine, with quivering lips. + +"God!" John DeWitt muttered and flung himself from the house to the +corral. The other two followed him at once. + +It was mid-afternoon when the three rode into the quivering yellow haze +of the desert followed by a little string of pack horses. It was now +nearing twenty-four hours since Rhoda had disappeared and in that time +there had been little sand blowing. This meant that the trail could be +easily followed were it found. The men rode single file, Billy Porter +leading. All wore blue flannel shirts and khaki trousers. John DeWitt +rode Eastern park fashion, with short stirrup, rising from the saddle +with the trot. Jack and Billy rode Western fashion, long stirrup, an +inseparable part of their horses, a fashion that John DeWitt was to be +forced to learn in the fearful days to come. + +Billy Porter declaimed in a loud voice from the head of the procession. + +"Of course, Kut-le has taken to the mountains. He'll steer clear of +ranches and cowboys for a while. Our chance lies in his giving up +covering his trail after he gets well into the ranges. We will get his +trail and hang on till we can outwit him. If he was alone, we'd never +get him, barring accident. But he will be a lot hampered by Miss Rhoda +and I trust to her to hamper him a whole lot after she gets her hand +in." + +All the rest of the burning afternoon they moved toward the mountains. +It was quite dusk when they entered the foothills. The way, not good +at best, grew difficult and dangerous to follow. Billy led on, +however, until darkness closed down on them in a little cactus-grown +canon. Here he halted and ordered camp for a few hours. + +"Lord!" exclaimed DeWitt. "You're not going to camp! I thought you +were really going to do something!" + +Billy finished lighting the fire and by its light he gave an impatient +glance at the tenderfoot. But the look of the burned, sand-grimed +face, the bloodshot eyes, blazing with anxiety, caused him to speak +patiently. + +"Can't kill the horses, DeWitt. You must make up your mind that this +is going to be a hard hunt. You got to call out all the strength +you've been storing up all your life, and then some. We've got to use +common sense. Lord, I want to get ahead, don't I! I seen Miss Rhoda. +I know what she's like. This ain't any joy ride for me, either. I got +a lot of feeling in it." + +John DeWitt extended his sun-blistered right hand and Billy Porter +clasped it with his brown paw. + +Jack Newman cleared his throat. + +"Did you give your horse enough rope, John? There is a good lot of +grass close to the canon wall. Quick as you finish your coffee, old +man, roll in your blanket. We will rest till midnight when the moon +comes up, eh, Billy?" + +DeWitt, finally convinced of the good sense and earnestness of his +friends, obeyed. The canon was still in darkness when Jack shook him +into wakefulness but the mountain peak above was a glorious silver. +Camp was broken quickly and in a short time Billy was leading the way +up the wretched trail. DeWitt's four hours of sleep had helped him. +He could, to some degree, control the feverish anxiety that was +consuming him and he tried to turn his mind from picturing Rhoda's +agonies to castigating himself for leaving her unguarded even though +Kut-le had left the ranch. Before leaving the ranch that afternoon he +had telegraphed and written Rhoda's only living relative, her Aunt +Mary. He had been thankful as he wrote that Rhoda had no mother. He +had so liked the young Indian; there had been such good feeling between +them that he could not yet believe that Porter's surmise was wholly +correct. + +"Supposing," he said aloud, "that you are wrong, Porter? Supposing +that she's--she's dying of thirst down there in the desert? You have +no proof of Kut-le's doing it. It's only founded on your Indian hate, +you say yourself." + +"That's right," said Newman. "Are you sure we aren't wasting time, +Billy?" + +Billy turned in the saddle to face them. + +"Well, boys," he said, "you've got half the county scratching the +desert with a fine-tooth comb. I don't see how we three can help very +much there. On the other hand we might do some good up here. Now I'll +make a bargain with you. If by midnight tonight we ain't struck any +trace of her, you folks can quit." + +"And what will you do?" asked Jack. + +"Me?" Billy shrugged his shoulders. "Why, I'll keep on this trail +till my legs is wore off above my boots!" and he turned to guide his +pony up a little branch trail at the top of which stood a tent with the +telltale windlass and forge close by. + +Before the tent they drew rein. In response to Billy's call a +rough-bearded fellow lifted the tent flap and stood suppressing a yawn, +as if visitors to his lonely claim were of daily occurrence. + +"Say, friend," said Billy, "do you know Newman's ranch?" + +"Sure," returned the prospector. + +"Well, this is Mr. Newman. A young lady has been visiting him and his +wife. She disappeared night before last. We suspicion that Cartwell, +that educated Injun, has stole her. We're trying to find his trail. +Can you give us a hunch?" + +The sleepy look left the prospector's eyes. He crossed the rocks to +put a hand on Billy's pommel. + +"Gee! Ain't that ungodly!" he exclaimed. "I ain't seen a soul. But +night before last I heard a screaming in my sleep. It woke me up but +when I got out here I couldn't hear a thing. It was faint and far away +and I decided it was a wildcat. Do you suppose it was her?" + +DeWitt ground his teeth together and his hands shook but he made no +sound. Jack breathed heavily. + +"You think it was a woman?" asked Billy hoarsely. + +The prospector spoke hesitatingly. + +"If I'd been shore, I'd a gone on a hunt. But it was all kind of in my +sleep. It was from way back in the mountain there." + +"Thanks," said Billy, "we'll be on our way." + +"It's four o'clock. Better stop and have some grub with me, then I'll +join in and help you." + +"No!" cried DeWitt, breaking his silence. "No!" + +"That's the young lady's financier," said Billy, nodding toward John. + +"Sho!" said the prospector sympathetically. + +Billy lifted his reins. + +"Thanks, we'll be getting along, I guess. Just as much obliged to you. +We'll water here in your spring." + +They moved on in the direction whither the prospector had pointed. +They rode in silence. Dawn came slowly, clearly. The peaks lifted +magnificently, range after range against the rosy sky. There was no +trail. They followed the possible way. The patient little cow ponies +clambered over rocks and slid down inclines of a frightful angle as +cleverly as mountain goats. At ten o'clock, they stopped for breakfast +and a three hours' sleep. It was some time before DeWitt could be +persuaded to lie down but at last, perceiving that he was keeping the +others from their rest, he took his blanket to the edge of the ledge +and lay down. + +His sleepless eyes roved up and down the adjoining canon. Far to the +south, near the desert floor, he saw a fluttering bit of white. Now a +fluttering bit of white, far from human byways, means something! +Tenderfoot though he was, DeWitt realized this and sleep left his eyes. +He sat erect. For a moment he was tempted to call the others but he +restrained himself. He would let them rest while he kept watch over +the little white beacon, for so, unaccountably, it seemed to him. He +eyed it hungrily, and then a vague comfort and hopefulness came to him +and he fell asleep. + +Jack's lusty call to coffee woke him. DeWitt jumped to his feet and +with a new light in his eyes he pointed out his discovery. The meal +was disposed of very hurriedly and, leaving Jack to watch the camp, +John and Billy crossed the canon southward. After heavy scrambling +they reached the foot of the canon wall. Twenty feet above them +dangled a white cloth. Catching any sort of hand and foot hold, John +clambered upward. Then he gave a great shout of joy. Rhoda's neck +scarf with the pebble pinned in one end was in his hands! DeWitt slid +to the ground and he and Billy examined the scarf tenderly, eagerly. + +"I told you! I told you!" exulted Billy hoarsely. "See that weight +fastened to it? Wasn't that smart of her? Bless her heart! Now we +got to get above, somehow, and find where she dropped it from!" + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +ENTERING THE DESERT KINDERGARTEN + +"We'll start now," said Kut-le. + +Alchise led out the horses. The squaws each threw an emancipated, +sinewy leg across a pony's back and followed Alchise's fluttering shirt +up the mountain. Kut-le stood holding the bridle of a sedate little +horse on which he had fastened a comfortable high-backed saddle. + +"Come, Rhoda," he said. "I'll shorten the stirrups after you are +mounted." + +Rhoda stood with her back to the wall, her blue-veined hands clutching +the rough out-croppings on either side, horror and fear in her eyes. + +"I can't ride cross-saddle!" she exclaimed. "I used to be a good +horsewoman in the side-saddle. But I'm so weak that even keeping in +the side-saddle is out of the question." + +"Anything except cross-saddle is utterly out of the question," replied +the Indian, "on the sort of trails we have to take. You might as well +begin to control your nerves now as later. I'm going to have an expert +rider in you by the time you have regained your strength. Come, Rhoda." + +The girl turned her face to the afterglow. Remote and pitiless lay the +distant crimson ranges. She shuddered and turned back to the young +Indian who stood watching her. For the moment all the agony of her +situation was concentrated in horror of another night in the saddle. + +"Kut-le, I _can't_!" + +"Shall I pick you up and carry you over here?" asked Kut-le patiently. + +In her weakness and misery, Rhoda's cleft chin quivered. There was +only merciless determination in the Indian's face. Slowly the girl +walked to his side. He swung her to the saddle, adjusted the stirrups +carefully, then fastened her securely to the saddle with a strap about +her waist. Rhoda watched him in the silence of utter fear. Having +settled the girl to his satisfaction, he mounted his own horse, and +Rhoda's pony followed him tractably up the trail. + +The trail rose steeply. After the first few dizzy moments, Rhoda, +clinging to the saddle with hands and knees, was thankful for the +security of her new seat. The scenery was uncanny to her terrorized +eyes. To the left were great overhanging walls with cactus growing +from every crevice; to the right, depth of canon toward which she dared +not look but only trusted herself prayerfully to her steady little +horse. + +As the trail led higher and darkness settled, the cold grew intense and +Rhoda cowered and shivered. Yet through her fear and discomfort was +creeping surprise that her strength had endured even this long. In a +spot where the trail widened Kut-le dropped back beside her and she +felt the warm folds of a Navajo blanket about her shoulders. Neither +she nor the Indian spoke. The madness of the night before, the fear +and disgust of the afternoon gave way, slowly, to a lethargy of +exhaustion. All thought of her frightful predicament, of her friends' +anxiety, of Kut-le's treachery, was dulled by a weariness so great that +she could only cling to the saddle and pray for the trail to end. + +Kut-le, riding just ahead, glanced back constantly at the girl's dim +figure. But Rhoda was beyond pleading or protesting. The trail +twisted and undulated on and on. Each moment Rhoda felt less certain +of her seat. Each moment the motion of the horse grew more painful. +At last a faint odor of pine-needles roused her sinking senses and she +opened her heavy eyes. They had left the sickening edge of the canon +and Alchise was leading them into a beautiful growth of pines where the +mournful hooting of owls gave a graveyard sadness to the moon-flecked +shadows. + +Here, in a long aisle of columnar pines, Kut-le called the first halt. +Rhoda reeled in her saddle. Before her horse had stopped, Kut-le was +beside her, unfastening her waist strap and lifting her to the ground. +He pulled the blanket from his own shoulders and Molly stretched it on +the soft pine-needles. Rhoda, half delirious, looked up into the young +Indian's face with the pathetic unconsciousness of a sick child. He +laid her carefully on the blanket. The two squaws hurriedly knelt at +Rhoda's side and with clever hands rubbed and manipulated the slender, +exhausted body until the girl opened her languid eyes. + +Kut-le, while this was being done, stood quietly by the blanket, his +fine face stern and intent. When Rhoda opened her eyes, he put aside +the two squaws, knelt and raised the girl's head and held a cup of the +rich broth to her lips. It was cold, yet it tasted good, and Rhoda +finished the cup without protest, then struggled to a sitting position. +After a moment Kut-le raised her gently to her feet. Here, however, +she pushed him away and walked unsteadily to her horse. Kut-le's hands +dropped to his side and he stood in the moonlight watching the frail +boyish figure clamber with infinite travail into the saddle. + +From the pine wood, the trail led downward. The rubbing and the broth +had put new life into Rhoda, and for a little while she kept a clear +brain. For the first time it occurred to her that instead of following +the Indians so stupidly she ought to watch her chance and at the first +opportunity make a wild dash off into the darkness. Kut-le was so sure +of her weakness and cowardice that she felt that he would be taken +completely by surprise and she might elude him. With a definite +purpose in her mind she was able to fight off again and again the blur +of weakness that threatened her. + +As the trail widened in the descent, Kut-le rode in beside her. + +"Feeling better?" he asked cheerfully. + +Rhoda made no reply. Such a passion of hatred for the man shook her +that words failed her. She turned a white face toward him, the eyes +black, the nostrils quivering with passion. + +Kut-le laughed softly. + +"Hate me, Rhoda! Hate me as much as you wish! That's a heap more +hopeful than indifference. I'll bet you aren't thinking of dying of +ennui now!" + +What fiend, thought Rhoda, ever had induced her to make a friend of +this savage! She clung to the pommel of her saddle, her eyes fastened +on him. If only he would drop dead as he sat! If only his Indians +would turn on him and kill him! + +They were riding through the desert now, desert thick-grown with cactus +and sage-brush. Suddenly a far away roar came to Rhoda's ears. There +was a faint whistle repeated with increasing loudness. Off to the +north appeared a light that grew till it threw a dazzling beam on the +strange little waiting group. The train passed, a half-dozen dimly +lighted Pullmans. The roaring decreased, the whistle sounded lower and +lower and the night was silent. Rhoda sat following the last dim light +with burning eyes. Kut-le led the way from the difficult going of the +desert to the road-bed. As Rhoda saw the long line of rails the panic +of the previous night overwhelmed her. Like a mad thing, unmindful of +the strap about her waist she threw herself from the saddle and hung +against the stolid pony. Kut-le dismounted and undid the strap. The +girl dropped to the ties and lay crouched with her face against the +steel rail. + +"O John! O John DeWitt!" she sobbed. + +"Alchise, go ahead with the horses," said Kut-le. "Wait for me at the +painted rock." + +Then as the Indians became indistinguishable along the track he lifted +Rhoda to her feet. + +"Walk for a while," he said. "It will rest you. Poor little girl! I +wish I could have managed differently but this was best for you. Come, +don't be afraid of me!" + +Some savage instinct stirred in Rhoda. For the first time in her life +she felt an insane joy in anger. + +"I'm not afraid of you, you Apache Indian!" she said clearly. "I +loathe you! Your touch poisons me! But I'm not afraid of you! I +shall choke myself with my bare hands before you shall harm me! And if +you keep me long enough I shall try to kill you!" + +Kut-le gave a short laugh. + +"Listen, Rhoda. Your protests show that you are afraid of me. But you +need not be. Your protection lies in the fact that I love you--love +you with all the passion of a savage, all the restraint of a Caucasian. +I'd rather die than harm you! Why, girl, I'm saving you, not +destroying you! Rhoda! Dear one!" He paused and Rhoda could hear his +quickened breath. Then he added lightly, "Let's get on with our little +stroll!" + +Rhoda wrung her hands and groaned. Only to escape--to escape! +Suddenly turning, she ran down the track. Kut-le watched her, +motionless, until she had run perhaps a hundred yards, then with a few +mighty leaps he overtook her and gathered her to his great chest. +Moaning, Rhoda lay still. + +"Dear," said Kut-le, "don't exert yourself foolishly. If you must +escape, lay your plans carefully. Use your brain. Don't act like a +child. I love you, Rhoda!" + +"I loathe you! I loathe you!" whispered the girl. + +"You don't--ah--" He stopped abruptly and set the girl on the ground. +They were standing beside a side-track near a desert water-tank. "I've +caught my foot in a switch-frog," muttered Kut-le, keeping his hold on +Rhoda with one hand while with the other he tugged at his moccasined +foot. + +Rhoda stood rigid. + +"I hear a train!" she cried. "O dear God, I hear a train!" Then, "The +other Indians are too far away to reach you before the train does," she +added calmly. + +"But I'll never loose my grip on you," returned the Indian grimly. + +He tore at the imprisoned foot, ripping the moccasin and tearing at the +road bed. The rails began to sing. Far down the track they saw a star +of light Rhoda's heart stood still. This, then, was to be the end! +After all the months of distant menace, death was to be upon her in a +moment! This, then, was to be the solution! And with all the horror +of what life might mean to her, she cried out with a sob: + +"Oh, not this way! Not this way!" + +Kut-le gave her a quick push. + +"Hurry," he said, "and try to remember good things of me!" + +With a cry of joy, Rhoda jumped from the track, then stopped. There +flashed across her inner vision the face of young Cartwell, debonair +and dark, with unfathomable eyes; young Cartwell who had saved her life +when the scorpion had stung her, who had spent hours trying to lead her +back to health. Instantly she turned and staggered back to the Indian. + +"I can't let a human being die like a trapped animal!" she panted, and +she threw herself wildly against him. + +Kut-le fell at the unexpected impact of her weight and his foot was +freed! He lifted Rhoda, leaped from the track, and the second section +of the tourist train thundered into the west. + +"You are as fine as I thought you were--" he began. But Rhoda was a +limp heap at his feet. + +The girl came to her senses partially when Kut-le set her in the saddle +and fastened her there with strap and blanket. But happily she was +practically unconscious for the hour or two that remained till dawn. +Just as day was breaking the Indians made their way across an arroyo +and up a long slope to a group of cottonwoods. Here Rhoda was put to +bed on a heap of blankets. + +Sometime in the afternoon she woke with a clear head. It was the first +time in months that she had wakened without a headache. She stared +from the shade of the cottonwoods to the distant lavender haze of the +desert. There was not a sound in all the world. Mysterious, remote, +the desert stared back at her, mocking her little grief. More terrible +to her than her danger in Kut-le's hands, more appalling than the death +threat that had hung over her so long, was this sense of awful space, +of barren nothingness with which the desert oppressed her. +Instinctively she turned to look for human companionship. Kut-le and +Alchise were not to be seen but Molly nodded beside Rhoda's blankets +and the thin hag Cesca was curled in the grass near by, asleep. + +"You awake? Heap hungry?" asked Molly suddenly. + +Rhoda sat up, groaning at the torturing stiffness of her muscles. + +"Where is Kut-le?" she asked. + +"Gone get 'em supper. Alchise gone too." + +"Molly," Rhoda took the rough brown hand between both her soft cold +palms, "Molly, will you help me to run away?" + +Molly looked from the clasping fingers up to Rhoda's sweet face. Molly +was a squaw, dirty and ignorant. Rhoda was the delicate product of a +highly cultivated civilization, egoistic, narrow-viewed, self-centered. +And yet Rhoda, looking into Molly's deep brown eyes, saw there that +limitless patience and fortitude and gentleness which is woman's +without regard to class or color. And not knowing why, the white girl +bowed her head on the squaw's fat shoulder and sobbed a little. A +strange look came into Molly's face. She was childless and had worked +fearfully to justify her existence to her tribe. Few hands had touched +hers in tenderness. Few voices had appealed to her for sympathy. +Suddenly Molly clasped Rhoda in her strong arms and swayed back and +forth with her gently. + +"You no cry!" she said. "You no cry, little Sun-head, you no cry!" + +"Molly, dear kind Molly, won't you help me to get back to my own +people? Suppose it was your daughter that a white man had stolen! O +Molly, I want to go home!" + +Molly still rocked and spoke in the singsong voice one uses to a +sobbing child. + +"You no run 'way! Kut-le catch right off! Make it all harder for you!" + +Rhoda shivered a little. + +"If I once get away, Kut-le never will catch me alive!" + +Molly chuckled indulgently. + +"How you run? No _sabe_ how eat, how drink, how find the trail! +Better stay with Molly." + +"I would wait till I thought we were near a town. Won't you help me? +Dear, kind Molly, won't you help me?" + +"Kut-le kill Molly with cactus torture!" + +"But you go with me!" The sobs ceased and Rhoda sat back on her +blankets as the idea developed. "You go with me and I'll make you--" + +Neither noticed the soft thud of moccasined feet. Suddenly Alchise +seized Molly's black hair and with a violent jerk pulled the woman +backward. Rhoda forgot her stiffened muscles, forgot her gentle +ancestry. She sprang at Alchise with catlike fury and struck his +fingers from Molly's hair. + +"You fiend! I wish I could shoot you!" she panted, her fingers +twitching. + +Alchise retreated a step. + +"She try help 'em run!" he said sullenly. + +"She was not! And no matter if she was! Don't you touch a woman +before me!" + +A swift shadow crossed the camp and Alchise was hurled six feet away. + +"What's the matter!" cried Kut-le. "Has he laid finger on you, Rhoda?" +He strode to her side and looked down at her with eyes in which +struggled anger and anxiety. + +"No!" blazed Rhoda. "But he pulled Molly over backward by her hair!" + +"Oh!" in evident relief. "And what was Molly doing?" + +"She maybe help 'em run," said Alchise, coming forward. + +The relief in Kut-le's voice increased Rhoda's anger. + +"No such thing! She was persuading me not to go! Kut-le, you give +Alchise orders not to touch Molly again. I won't have it!" + +"Oh, that's not necessary," said Kut-le serenely. "Indians are pretty +good to their women as a general thing. They average up with the +whites, I guess. Molly, get up and help Cesca with these!" He flung +some newly killed rabbits at the gaping squaw, who still lay where she +had fallen. + +Rhoda, trembling and glowering, walked unsteadily up and down beneath +the cottonwoods. The details of her new existence, the dirt, the +roughness, were beginning to sink in on her. She paced back and forth, +lips compressed, eyes black. Kut-le stood with his back against a +cottonwood eying the slender figure with frank delight. Now and again +he chuckled as he rolled a cigarette with his facile finger. His hands +were fine as only an Indian's can be: strong and sinewy yet supple with +slender fingers and almond-shaped nails. + +He smoked contentedly with his eyes on the girl. Inscrutable as was +his face at a casual glance, had Rhoda observed keenly she might have +read much in the changing light of his eyes. There was appreciation of +her and love of her and a merciless determination to hold her at all +costs. And still as he gazed there was that tragedy in his look which +is part and portion of the Indian's face. + +Silence in the camp had continued for some time when a strange young +Indian strode up the slope, nodded to the group in the camp, and +deliberately rolled himself in a blanket and dropped to sleep. Rhoda +stared at him questioningly. + +"Alchise's and Cesca's son," said Kut-le. "His job is to follow us at +a distance and remove all trace of our trail. Not an overturned pebble +misses his eye. I'll need him only for a day or two." + +"Kut-le," said Rhoda suddenly, "when are you going to end the farce and +let me go?" + +The young man smiled. + +"You know the way the farce usually ends! The man always gets the girl +and they live happily forever after!" + +"What do you suppose Jack and Katherine think of you? They have loved +and trusted you so!" + +For the first time the Indian's face showed pain. + +"My hope is," he said, "that after they see how happy I am going to +make you they will forgive me." + +Rhoda controlled her voice with difficulty. + +"Can't you see what you have done? No matter what the outcome, can you +believe that I or any one that loves me can forgive the outrage to me?" + +"After we have married and lived abroad for a year or two people will +remember only the romance of it!". + +"Heavens!" ejaculated Rhoda. She returned to her angry walking. + +Molly was preparing supper. She worked always with one eye on Rhoda, +as if she could not see enough of the girl's fragile loveliness. With +her attention thus divided, she stumbled constantly, dropping the pots +and spilling the food. She herself was not at all disturbed by her +mishaps but, with a grimace and a chuckle, picked up the food. But +Cesca was annoyed. She was tending the fire which by a marvel of skill +she kept always clear and all but smokeless. At each of Molly's +mishaps, Cesca hurled a stone at her friend's back with a savage +"Me-yah!" that disturbed Molly not at all. + +Mercifully night was on the camp by the time the rabbits were cooked +and Rhoda ate unconscious of the dirt the food had acquired in the +cooking. When the silent meal was finished, Kut-le pointed to Rhoda's +blankets. + +"We will start in half an hour. You must rest during that time." + +Too weary to resent the peremptory tone, Rhoda obeyed. The fire long +since had been extinguished and the camp was dark. The Indians were to +be located only by faint whispers under the trees. The opportunity +seemed providential! Rhoda slipped from her blankets and crept through +the darkness away from the camp. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE FIRST LESSON + +After crawling on her hands and knees for several yards, Rhoda rose and +started on a run down the long slope to the open desert. But after a +few steps she found running impossible, for the slope was a wilderness +of rock, thickly grown with cholla and yucca with here and there a +thicker growth of cat's-claw. + +Almost at once her hands were torn and bleeding and she thought +gratefully for the first time of her buckskin trousers which valiantly +resisted all detaining thorns. The way dropped rapidly and after her +first wild spurt Rhoda leaned exhausted and panting against a boulder. +She had not the vaguest idea of where she was going or of what she was +going to do, except that she was going to lose herself so thoroughly +that not even Kut-le could find her. After that she was quite willing +to trust to fate. + +After a short rest she started on, every sense keen for the sound of +pursuit, but none came. As the silent minutes passed Rhoda became +elated. How easy it was! What a pity that she had not tried before! +At the foot of the slope, she turned up the arroyo. Here her course +grew heavier. The arroyo was cut by deep ruts and gullies down which +the girl slid and tumbled in mad haste only to find rock masses over +which she crawled with utmost difficulty. Now and again the stout +vamps of her hunting boots were pierced by chollas and, half frantic in +her haste, she was forced to stop and struggle to pull out the thorns. + +It was not long before the girl's scant strength was gone, and when +after a mad scramble she fell from a boulder to the ground, she was too +done up to rise. She lay face to the stars, half sobbing with +excitement and disappointment. After a time, however, the sobs ceased +and she lay thinking. She knew now that until she was inured to the +desert and had a working knowledge of its ways, escape was impossible. +She must bide her time and wait for her friends to rescue her. She had +no idea how far she had come from the Indian camp. Whether or not +Kut-le could find her again she could not guess. If he did not, then +unless a white stumbled on her she must die in the desert. Well then, +let it be so! The old lethargy closed in on her and she lay motionless +and hopeless. + +From all sides she heard the night howls of the coyote packs circling +nearer and nearer. Nothing could more perfectly interpret the horrible +desolation of the desert, Rhoda thought, than the demoniacal, +long-drawn laughter of the coyote. How long she lay she neither knew +nor cared. But just as she fancied that the coyotes had drawn so near +that she could hear their footsteps, a hand was laid on her arm. + +"Have you had enough, Rhoda?" asked Kut-le. + +"No!" shuddered Rhoda. "I'd rather die here!" + +The Indian laughed softly as he lifted her from the ground. + +"A good hater makes a good lover, Rhoda," he said. "I wish I'd had +time to let you learn your lesson more thoroughly. I haven't been +twenty-five feet away from you since you left the camp. I wanted you +to try your hand at it just so you'd realize what you are up against. +But you've tired yourself badly." + +Rhoda lay mute in the young man's arms. She was not thinking of his +words but of the first time that the Indian had carried her. She saw +John DeWitt's protesting face, and tears of weakness and despair ran +silently down her cheeks. Kut-le strode rapidly and, unhesitatingly +over the course she had followed so painfully and in a few moments they +were among the waiting Indians. + +Kut-le put Rhoda in her saddle, fastened her securely and put a Navajo +about her shoulders. The night's misery was begun. Whether they went +up and down mountains, whether they crossed deserts, Rhoda neither knew +nor cared. The blind purpose of clinging to the saddle was the one aim +of the dreadful night. She was a little light-headed at times and with +her head against the horse's neck, she murmured John DeWitt's name, or +sitting erect she called to him wildly. At such times Kut-le's fingers +tightened and he clinched his teeth, but he did not go to her. When, +however, the frail figure drooped silently and inertly against the +waist strap he seemed to know even in the darkness. Then and then only +he lifted her down, the squaws massaged her wracked body, and she was +put in the saddle again. Over and over during the night this was +repeated until at dawn Rhoda was barely conscious that after being +lifted to the ground she was not remounted but was covered carefully +and left in peace. + +It was late in the afternoon again when Rhoda woke. She pushed aside +her blankets and tried to get up but fell back with a groan. The +stiffness of the previous days was nothing whatever to the misery that +now held every muscle rigid. The overexertion of three nights in the +saddle which the massaging had so far mitigated had asserted itself and +every muscle in the girl's body seemed acutely painful. To lift her +hand to her hair, to draw a long breath, to turn her head, was almost +impossible. + +Rhoda looked dismally about her. The camp this time was on the side of +a mountain that lay in a series of mighty ranges, each separated from +the other by a narrow strip of desert. White and gold gleamed the +snow-capped peaks. Purple and lavender melted the shimmering desert +into the lifting mesas. Rhoda threw her arm across her eyes to hide +the hateful sight, and moaned in pain at the movement. + +Molly ran to her side. + +"Your bones heap sick? Molly rub 'em?" she asked eagerly. + +"O Molly, if you would!" replied Rhoda gratefully, and she wondered at +the skill and gentleness of the Indian woman who manipulated the aching +muscles with such rapidity and firmness that in a little while Rhoda +staggered stiffly to her feet. + +"Molly," she said, "I want to wash my face." + +Molly puckered up her own face in her effort to understand, and +scratched her head. + +"Don't _sabe_ that," she said. + +"Wash my face!" repeated Rhoda in astonishment. "Of course you +understand." + +Molly laughed. + +"No! You no wash! No use! You just get cold--heap cold!" + +"Molly!" called Kut-le's authoritative voice. + +Molly went flying toward the packs, from which she returned with a +canteen and a tiny pitch-smeared basket. Kut-le followed with a towel. +He grinned at Rhoda. + +"Molly is possessed with the idea that anything as frail as you would +be snuffed out like a candle by a drop of water. You and I each +possess a lone lorn towel which we must wash out ourselves till the end +of the trip. The squaws don't know when a thing is clean." + +Rhoda took the towel silently, and the young Indian, after waiting a +minute as if in hope of a word from her, left the girl to her difficult +toilet. When Rhoda had finished she picked up the field-glasses that +Kut-le had left on her blankets and with her back to the Indians sat +down on a rock to watch the desert. + +The sordid discomforts of the camp seemed to her unbearable. She hated +the blue haze of the desert below and beyond her. She hated the very +ponies that Alchise was leading up from water. It was the fourth day +since her abduction. Rhoda could not understand why John and the +Newmans were so slow to overtake her. She knew nothing as yet of the +skill of her abductors. She was like an ignorant child placed in a new +world whose very ABC was closed to her. After always having been cared +for and protected, after never having known a hardship, the girl +suddenly was thrust into an existence whose savage simplicity was +sufficient to try the hardiest man. + +Supper was eaten in silence, Kut-le finally giving up his attempts to +make conversation. It was dusk when they mounted and rode up the +mountain. Near the crest a whirling cloud of mist enveloped them. It +became desperately cold and Rhoda shivered beneath her Navajo but +Kut-le gave no heed to her. He led on and on, the horses slipping, the +cold growing every minute more intense. At last there appeared before +them a dim figure silhouetted against a flickering light. Kut-le +halted his party and rode forward; Rhoda saw the dim figure rise +hastily and after a short time Kut-le called back. + +"Come ahead!" + +The little camp was only an open space at the canon edge, with a +sheepskin shelter over a tiny fire. Beside the fire stood a +sheep-herder, a swarthy figure wrapped from head to foot in sheepskins. +Over in the darkness by the mountain wall were the many nameless sounds +that tell of animals herding for the night. The shepherd greeted them +with the perfect courtesy of the Mexican. + +"Senors, the camp is yours!" + +Kut-le lifted the shivering Rhoda from her horse. The rain was +lessening but the cold was still so great that Rhoda huddled gratefully +by the little fire under the sheepskin shelter. Kut-le refused the +Mexican's offer of tortillas and the man sat down to enjoy their +society. He eyed Rhoda keenly. + +"Ah! It is a senorita!" Then he gasped. "It is perhaps the Senorita +Rhoda Tuttle!" + +Rhoda jumped to her feet. + +"Yes! Yes! How did you know?" + +Kut-le glared at the herder menacingly, but the little fellow did not +see. He spoke up bravely, as if he had a message for Rhoda. + +"Some people told me yesterday. They look for her everywhere!" + +Rhoda's eyes lighted joyfully. + +"Who? Where?" she cried. + +Kut-le spoke concisely: + +"You know nothing!" he said. + +The Mexican looked into the Apache's eyes and shivered slightly. + +"Nothing, of course, Senor," he replied. + +But Rhoda was not daunted. + +"Who were they?" she repeated. "What did they say? Where did they go?" + +The herder glanced at Rhoda and shook his head. + +"_Quien sabe_?" + +Rhoda turned to Kut-le in anger. + +"Don't be more brutal than you have to be!" she cried. "What harm can +it do for this man to give me word of my friends?" + +Kut-le's eyes softened. + +"Answer the senorita's questions, amigo," he said. + +The Mexican began eagerly. + +"There were three. They rode up the trail one day ago. They called +the dark man Porter, the big blue-eyed one DeWitt, and the +yellow-haired one Newman." + +Rhoda clasped her hands with a little murmur of relief. + +"The blue-eyed one acted as if locoed. They cursed much at a name, +Kut-le. But otherwise they talked little. They went that way," +pointing back over the trail. "They had found a scarf with a stone +tied in it--" + +"What's that?" interrupted Kut-le sharply. + +Rhoda's eyes shone in the firelight. + +"'Not an overturned pebble escapes his eye,'" she said serenely. + +"Bully for you!" exclaimed Kut-le, smiling at Rhoda in understanding. +"However, I guess we will move on, having gleaned this interesting +news!" + +He remounted his little party. Rhoda reeled a little but she made no +protest. As they took to the trail again the sheep-herder stood by the +fire, watching, and Rhoda called to him: + +"If you see them again tell them that I'm all right but that they must +hurry!" + +Rhoda felt new life in her veins after the meeting with the +sheep-herder and finished the night's trail in better shape than she +had done before. Yet not the next day nor for many days did they sight +pursuers. With ingenuity that seemed diabolical, Kut-le laid his +course. He seldom moved hurriedly. Indeed, except for the fact that +the traveling was done by night, the expedition had every aspect of +unlimited leisure. + +As the days passed, Rhoda forced herself to the calm of desperation. +Slowly she realized that she was in the hands of the masters of the art +of flight, an art that the very cruelty of the country abetted. But to +her utter astonishment her delirium of physical misery began to lift. +Saddle stiffness after the first two weeks left her. Though Kut-le +still fastened her to the saddle by the waist strap and rested her for +a short time every hour or so during the night's ride, the hours in the +saddle ceased to tax her strength. She was surprised to find that she +could eat--eat the wretched cooking of the squaws! + +At last she laid out a definite course for herself. Every night on the +trail and at every camp she tried to leave some mark for the whites--a +scratch on pebble or stone, a bit of marked yucca or a twisted +cat's-claw. She ceased entirely to speak to Kut-le, treating him with +a contemptuous silence that was torture to the Indian though he gave no +outward sign. + +Molly was her devoted friend and Rhoda derived great comfort from this +faithful servitor. Rhoda sat in the camp one afternoon with the two +squaws while Kut-le and Alchise were off on a turkey hunt. Some of the +girl's pallor had given way to a delicate tan. The dark circles about +her eyes had lightened a little. Molly was busily pounding grass-seeds +between two stones. Rhoda watched her idly. Suddenly a new idea sent +the blood to her thin cheeks. + +Why shouldn't she learn to make seed meal, to catch and cook rabbits, +to distinguish edible cactus from inedible? Then indeed she would be +able to care for herself on the trail! To Rhoda, who never had worked +with her hands, who indeed had come to look on manual labor as +belonging to inferiors, the idea was revolutionary. For a long time +she turned it over in her mind, watching Molly the while. The most +violent housewifely task that Rhoda ever had undertaken had been the +concocting of chafing-dish messes at school. + +"Molly," she said suddenly, "teach me how to do that!" + +Molly paused and grinned delightedly. + +"All right! You come help poor Molly!" + +With Cesca looking on sardonically, Molly poured fresh seeds on her +rude metate and showed Rhoda the grinding roll that flattened and broke +the little grains. Despite her weak fingers Rhoda took to the work +easily. As she emptied out the first handful of meal, a curious sense +of pleasure came to her. Squatting before the metate, she looked at +the little pile of bruised seeds with the utmost satisfaction. Molly +poured more seeds on the metate and Rhoda began again. She was hard at +her task, her cheeks flushed with interest, when Kut-le returned. +Rhoda did not see the sudden look of pleasure in his eyes. + +"You will tire yourself," he said. + +Rhoda did not answer, but poured another handful of seed on the metate. + +"You'll begin to like the life," he went on, "by the time you are +educated enough to leave us." He turned teasingly to Cesca. "You +think the white squaw can cross the desert soon by herself?" + +Cesca spat disdainfully. + +"No! White squaw no good! All time sit, sit, no work! Kut-le heap +fool!" + +"Oh, Cesca," cried Rhoda, "I'm too sick to work! And see this meal +I've made! Isn't it good?" + +Cesca glanced disdainfully at the little heap of meal Rhoda had bruised +out so painfully. + +"Huh!" she grunted. "Feed 'em to the horses. Injuns no eat 'em!" + +Rhoda looked from the meal to her slender, tired fingers. Cesca's +contempt hurt her unaccountably. In her weakness her cleft chin +quivered. She turned to Molly. + +"Do you think it's so bad, Molly?" + +That faithful friend grunted with rage and aimed a vicious kick at +Cesca. Then she put a protecting arm about Rhoda. + +"It's heap fine! Cesca just old fool. You love Molly. Let Cesca go +to hell!" + +Kut-le had been watching the little scene with tender eyes. Now he +stooped and lifted Rhoda to her feet, then he raised one of the +delicate hands and touched it softly with his lips. + +"Leave such work to the squaws, dear! You aren't built for it. Cesca, +you old lobster, you make me tired! Go fix the turkeys!" + +Cesca rose with dignity, flipped away her cigarette and walked with a +sniff over to the cooking-pot. Rhoda drew her hands from the young +Indian's clasp and walked to the edge of the camp. The hot pulse that +the touch of Kut-le's lips sent through her body startled her. + +"I hate him!" she said to herself. "I hate him! I hate him!" + +The trail that night was unusually difficult and Rhoda had to be rested +frequently. At each stop, Kut-le tried to talk to her but she +maintained her silence. They paused at dawn in a pocket formed by the +meeting of three divergent canons. Far, far above the desert as they +were, still farther above them stretched the wonderful barren ridges, +snow-capped and silent. As Rhoda stood waiting for the squaws to +spread her blankets the peaks were lighted suddenly by the rays of the +still unseen sun. For one unspeakable instant their snow crowns +flashed a translucent scarlet that trembled, shimmered, then melted to +a pink, then to a white so pure, so piercing that Rhoda trembled with +sudden awe. Then as she looked, the sun rolled into view, blinding her +eyes, and she turned to her waiting blankets. + +She had slept for several hours when she was wakened by a soft tap on +her shoulder. She opened her eyes and would have risen but a voice +whispered: + +"Hush! Don't move!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +A BROADENING HORIZON + +Rhoda lay stiffly, her heart beating wildly. Kut-le and the squaws, +each a muffled, blanketed figure, lay sleeping some distance away. Old +Alchise stood on solitary guard at the edge of the camp with his back +to her. + +"Make as if you wanted to shift your blankets toward the cat's-claw +bush behind you!" went on the whispered voice. + +Obediently, Rhoda sat erect. Alchise turned slowly to light a +cigarette out of the wind. Rhoda yawned, rose sleepily, looked under +her blanket and shook her, head irritably, then dragged her blankets +toward the neighboring cat's-claw. Again she settled herself to sleep. +Alchise turned back to his view of the desert. + +"I'm behind the bush here," whispered the voice. "I'm a prospector. +Saw you make camp. I don't know where any of the search parties are +but if you can crawl round to me I'll guarantee to get you to 'em +somehow. Slip out of your blankets and leave 'em, rounded up as if you +was still under 'em. Quick now and careful!" + +Rhoda, her eyes never leaving Alchise's impassive back, drew herself +silently and swiftly from her blankets and with a clever touch or two +rounded them. Then she crept around the cat's-claw, where a man +squatted, his eyes blazing with excitement. He put up a sinewy, hand +to pull her from sight when, without warning, Rhoda sneezed. + +Instantly there was the click of a rifle and Alchise shouted: + +"Stop!" + +"Confound it!" growled the man, rising to full view, "why didn't you +swallow it!" + +"I couldn't!" replied Rhoda indignantly. "You don't suppose I wanted +to!" + +She turned toward the camp. Alchise was standing stolidly covering +them with his rifle. Kut-le was walking coolly toward them, while the +squaws sat gaping. + +"Well!" exclaimed Kut-le. "What can we do for you, Jim?" + +The stranger, a rough tramp-like fellow in tattered overalls, wiped his +face, on which was a week's stubble. + +"I'd always thought you was about white, Cartwell," he said, "but I see +you're no better than the rest of them. What are you going to do with +me?" + +Kut-le eyed his unbidden guest speculatively. + +"Well, we'll have something to eat first. I don't like to think on an +empty stomach. Come over to my blanket and sit down, Jim." + +Ignoring Rhoda, who was watching him closely, Kut-le seated himself on +his blanket beside Jim and offered him a cigarette, which was refused. + +"I don't want no favors from you, Cartwell." His voice was surly. +There was something more than his rough appearance that Rhoda disliked +about the man but she didn't know just what it was. Kut-le's eyes +narrowed, but he lighted his own cigarette without replying. "You're +up to a rotten trick and you know it, Cartwell," went on Jim. "You +take my advice and let me take the girl back to her friends and you +make tracks down into Mexico as fast as the Lord'll let you." + +Kut-le shifted the Navajo that hung over his naked shoulders. He gave +a short laugh that Rhoda had never heard from him before. + +"Let her go with you, Jim Provenso! You know as well as I do that she +is safer with an Apache! Anything else?" + +"Yes, this else!" Jim's voice rose angrily. "If ever we get a chance +at you, we'll hang you sky high, see? This may go with Injuns but not +with whites, you dirty pup!" + +Suddenly Kut-le rose and, dropping his blanket, stood before the white +man in his bronze perfection. + +"Provenso, you aren't fit to look at a decent woman! Don't put on dog +just because you belong to the white race. You're disreputable, and +you know it. Don't speak to Miss Tuttle again; you are too rotten!" + +The prospector had risen and stood glaring at Kut-le. + +"I'll kill you for that yet, you dirty Injun!" he shouted. + +"Shucks!" sniffed the Indian. "You haven't the nerve to injure +anything but a woman!" + +Jim's face went purple. + +"For two bits I'd knock your block off, right now." + +"There isn't a cent in the camp." Kut-le turned to Rhoda. "You get the +point of the conversation, I hope?" + +Rhoda's eyes were blazing. She had gotten the point, and yet--Jim was +a white man! Anything white was better than an Indian. + +"I'd take my chances with Mr. Provenso," she said, joyfully conscious +that nothing could have hurt Kut-le more than this reply. + +Kut-le's lips stiffened. + +"Lunch is ready," he said. + +"None of _your_ grub for mine," remarked Jim. "What are you going to +do with me?" + +"Alchise!" called Kut-le. "Eat something, then take this fellow out +and lose him. Take the rest of the day to it. You know the next camp!" + +Then he folded his arms across his chest and waited for Alchise to +finish his meal. Jim stood in sullen silence for a minute. Then he +seated himself on a nearby rock. + +"No, you don't," he said. "If you get me out of here, you'll have to +use force." + +Kut-le shrugged his shoulders. + +"A gun at your back will move you!" + +Rhoda was looking at the white man's face with a great longing. He was +rough and ugly, but he was of her own breed. Suddenly the longing for +her own that she was beginning to control surged to her lips. + +"I can't bear this!" she cried. "I'm going mad! I'm going mad!" + +All the camp turned startled faces toward the girl, and Rhoda recovered +her self-possession. She ran to Kut-le and laid her hand on his arm, +lifting a lovely, pleading face to his. + +"O Kut-le! Kut-le!" in the tone that she had used to Cartwell. "Can't +you see that it's no use? He is white, Kut-le! Let me go with him! +Let me go back to my own people! O Kut-le, let me go! O let me go!" + +Kut-le looked down at the hand on his arm. Rhoda was too excited to +notice that his whole body shook at this unwonted touch. His voice was +caressing but his face remained inscrutable. + +"Dear girl," he answered, "he is not your kind! He might originally +have been of your color, but now he's streaked with yellow. Let him +go. You are safer here with me!" + +Rhoda turned from him impatiently. + +"It's quite useless," she said to Jim; "no pleading or threat will move +him. But I do thank you--" her voice breaking a little. "Go back with +Alchise and tell them to come for me quickly!" + +Some responsive flash of sympathy came to Jim's bleared eyes. + +Rhoda stood watching Alchise marshall him out of the camp. She moaned +helplessly: + +"O my people, my own people!" and Kut-le eyed her with unfathomable +gaze. + +As soon as lunch was finished, camp was broken. All the rest of the +day and until toward midnight they wound up a wretched trail that +circled the mountain ranges, For hours, Kut-le did not speak to Rhoda. +These days of Rhoda's contempt were very hard on him. The touch of her +hand that morning, the old note in her voice, still thrilled him. At +midnight as they watched the squaws unroll her blankets, he touched her +shoulder. + +"Dear," he said, in his rich voice, "it is in you to love me if only I +am patient. And--God, but it's worth all the starvation in the +meantime! Won't you say good-night to me, Rhoda?" + +Rhoda looked at the stalwart figure in the firelight. The young eyes +so tragic in their youth, the beautiful mouth, sad in its firm curves, +were strangely appealing. Just for an instant the horrors of the past +weeks vanished. + +"Good-night!" said Rhoda. Then she rolled herself in her blankets and +slept. By the next morning, however, the old repulsion had returned +and she made no response to Kut-le's overtures. + +Day succeeded day now, until Rhoda lost all track of time. Endlessly +they crossed desert and mountain ridges. Endlessly they circled +through dusky canon and sun-baked arroyo. Always Rhoda looked forward +to each new camping-place with excitement. Here, the rescuers might +stumble upon them! Always she started at each unexpected shadow along +the trail. Always she thrilled at a wisp of smokelike cloud beyond the +canon edge. Always she felt a quiver of certainty at sudden break of +twig or fall of stone. But the days passed and gradually hope changed +to desperation. + +The difficulties of the camp life would have been unbearable to her had +not her natural fortitude and her intense pride come to her rescue. +The estimate of her that Kut-le had so mercilessly presented to her the +first day of her abduction returned to her more and more clearly as the +days wore on. At first she thought of them only with scorn. Then as +her loneliness increased and she was forced back upon herself she grew +to wonder what in her had given the Indian such an opinion. There was +something in the nakedness of the desert, something in its piercing +austerity that forced her to truthfulness with herself. Little by +little she found herself trying to acquire Kut-le's view of her. + +Her liking for Molly grew. She spent long afternoons with the squaw, +picking up desert lore. + +"Do you like to work, Molly?" she asked the squaw one afternoon, as she +sorted seed for Molly to bruise. + +"What else to do?" asked Molly. "Sit with hands folded on stomach, so? +No! Still hands make crazy head. Now you work with your hands you no +so sorry in head, huh?" + +Rhoda thought for a moment. There was a joy in the rude camp tasks +that she had assumed that she never had found in golf or automobiling. +She nodded, then said wistfully: + +"You think I'm no good at all, don't you, Molly?" + +Molly shrugged her shoulders. + +"Me not got papooses. You not got papooses. Molly and you no good! +Molly is heap strong. What good is that? When she die she no has +given her strength to tribe, no done any good that will last. You are +heap beautiful. What good is that? You no give your face to your +tribe. What good are you? Molly and you might as well die tomorrow. +Work, have papooses, die. That all squaws are for. Great Spirit says +so. Squaw's own heart says so." + +Rhoda sat silently looking at the squaw's squat figure, the +toil-scarred fingers, the good brown eyes out of which looked a woman's +soul. Vaguely Rhoda caught a point of view that made her old ideals +seem futile. She smoothed the Indian woman's hands. + +"I sometimes think you are a bigger woman than I am, Molly," she said +humbly. + +"You are heap good to look at." Molly spoke wistfully. "Molly heap +homely. You think that makes any difference to the Great Spirit?" + +Rhoda's eyes widened, a little. Did it make any difference? After +all, what counted with the Great Spirit? She stared at the barren +ranges that lifted mute peaks to the silent heavens. Always, always +the questions and so vague the answers! Suddenly Rhoda knew that her +beauty had counted greatly with her all her life, had given her her +sense of superiority to the rest of the world. Rhoda squirmed. She +hated this faculty of the Indians and the desert to make her seem +small. She never had felt so with her own kind. Her own kind! Would +she never again know the deference, the gentleness, the loving +tenderness of her own people? Rhoda forgot Molly's wistful question. + +"O Molly!" she cried. "I can't stand this! I want my own people! I +want my own people!" + +Molly's eyes filled with tears. + +"No! No cry, little Sun-streak!" she pleaded, putting an arm around +Rhoda and holding her to her tenderly. "Any peoples that loves you is +your own peoples. Kut-le loves you. Molly loves you. We your peoples +too!" + +"No! No! Never!" sobbed Rhoda. "Molly, if you love me, take me back +to my own kind! You shall never leave me, Molly! I do love you. You +are an Indian but somehow I have a feeling for you I never had for any +one else." + +A sudden light of passionate adoration burned in Molly's eyes, a light +that never was to leave them again when they gazed on Rhoda. But she +shook her head. + +"You ask Molly to give up her peoples but you don't want to give up +yours. You stay with Molly and Kut-le. Learn what desert say 'bout +life, 'bout people. When you _sabe_ what the desert say 'bout that you +_sabe_ almost much as Great Spirit!" + +"Molly, listen! When Kut-le and Alchise go off on one of their hunts +and Cesca goes to sleep, you and I will steal off and hide until night, +and you will show me how to get home again. O Molly, I'll be very good +to you if you will do this for me! Don't you see how foolish Kut-le +is? I can never, never marry him! His ways are not my ways. My ways +are not his! Always I will be white and he Indian. He will get over +this craze for me and want one of his own kind. Molly, listen to your +heart! It must tell you white to the white, Indian to the Indian. +Dear, dear Molly, I want to go home!" + +"No! No! Molly promise Kut-le to keep his white squaw for him. +Injuns they always keep promises. And Molly _sabe_ some day when you +learn more you be heap glad old Molly keep you for Kut-le." + +Rhoda turned away with a sigh at the note of finality in Molly's voice. +Kut-le was climbing the trail toward the camp with a little pile of +provisions. So far he had not failed to procure when needed some sort +of rations--bacon, flour and coffee--though since her abduction Rhoda +had seen no human habitation, Cesca was preparing supper. She was +pounding a piece of meat on a flat stone, muttering to herself when a +piece fell to the ground. Sometimes she wiped the sand from the fallen +bit on her skirt. More often she flung it into the stew-pot unwiped. + +"Cesca!" cried Rhoda, "do keep the burro out of the meat!" The burro +that Kut-le recently had acquired was sniffing at the meat. + +Cesca gave no heed except to murmur, "Burro heap hungry!" + +"I am going to begin to cook my own meals, Molly," said Rhoda. "I am +strong enough now, and Cesca is so dirty!" + +Kut-le entered the camp in time to hear Rhoda's resolution. + +"Will you let me eat with you?" he asked courteously. "I don't enjoy +dirt, myself!" + +Rhoda stared at the young man. The calm effrontery of him, the +cleverness of him, to ask a favor of her! She turned from him to the +distant ranges. She did not realize how much she turned from the +roughness of the camp to the far desert views! Brooding, aloof, how +big the ranges were, how free, how calm! For the first time her +keeping Kut-le in Coventry seemed foolish to her. Of what avail was +her silence, except to increase her own loneliness? Suddenly she +smiled grimly. The game was a good one. Perhaps she could play it as +well as the Indian. + +"If you wish, you may," she said coldly. + +Then she ignored the utter joy and astonishment in the young man's face +and set about roasting the rabbit that Molly had dressed. She tossed +the tortillas as Molly had taught her and baked them over the coals. +She set forth the cans and baskets that formed the camp dinner-set and +served the primitive meal. Kut-le watched the preparations silently. +When the rabbit was cooked the two sat down on either side of the flat +rock that served as a table while the other three squatted about +Cesca's stew-pot near the fire. + +It was the first time that Rhoda and Kut-le had eaten tete-a-tete. +Hitherto Rhoda had taken her food off to a secluded corner and eaten it +alone. There was an intimacy in thus sitting together at the meal +Rhoda had prepared, that both felt. + +"Are you glad you did this for me, Rhoda?" asked Kut-le. + +"I didn't do it for you!" returned Rhoda. "I did it for my own +comfort!" + +Something in her tone narrowed the Indian's eyes. + +"Why should you speak as a queen to a poor devil of a subject? By what +particular mark of superiority are you exempt from work? For a time +you have had the excuse of illness, but you no longer have that. I +should say that making tortillas was better than sitting in sloth while +they are made for you! Do you never have any sense of shame that you +are forever taking and never giving?" + +Rhoda answered angrily. + +"I'm not at all interested in your opinions." + +But the young Apache went on. + +"It makes me tired to hear the white women of your class talk of their +equality to men! You don't do a thing to make you equal. You live off +some one else. You don't even produce children. Huh! No wonder +nature kicks you out with all manner of illness. You are mere cloggers +of the machinery. For heaven's sake, wake up, Rhoda! Except for your +latent possibilities, you aren't in it with Molly!" + +"You have some touchstone, I suppose," replied Rhoda contemptuously, +"by which you are made competent to sit in judgment on mankind?" + +"I sure have!" said Kut-le. "It is that you so live that you die +spiritually richer than you were born. Life is a simple thing, after +all. To keep one's body and soul healthy, to bear children, to give +more than we take. And I believe that in the end it will seem to have +been worth while." + +Rhoda made no answer. Kut-le ate on in silence for a time, then he +said wistfully: + +"Don't you enjoy this meal with me, just a little?" + +Rhoda glanced from Kut-le's naked body to her own torn clothing, then +at the crude meal. + +"I don't enjoy it, no," she answered quietly. + +Something in the quiet sincerity of the voice caused Kut-le to rise +abruptly and order the Indians to break camp. But on the trail that +night he rode close beside her whenever the way permitted and talked to +her of the beauty of the desert. At last, lashed to desperation by her +indifference, he cried: + +"Can't you see that your silence leads to nothing--that it maddens me!" + +"That is what I want it to do," returned Rhoda calmly. "I shall be so +glad if I can make you suffer a touch of what I am enduring!" + +Kut-le did not reply for a moment, then he began slowly: + +"You imagine that I am not suffering? Try to put yourself in my place +for a moment! Can't you see how I love you? Can't you see that my +stealing was the only thing that I could do, loving you so? Wouldn't +you have done the same in my place? If I had been a white man I +wouldn't have been driven to this. I would have had an equal chance +with DeWitt and could have won easily. But I had all the prejudice +against my alien race to fight. There was but one thing to do: to take +you to the naked desert where you would be forced to see life as I see +it, where you would be forced to see me, the man, far from any false +standards of civilization." + +Rhoda would have replied but Kut-le gave her no chance. + +"I know what white conventions demand of me. But, I tell you, my love +is above them. I, not suffer! Rhoda! To see you in pain! To see +your loathing of me! To have you helpless in my arms and yet to keep +you safe! Rhoda! Rhoda! Do you believe I do not suffer?" + +Anger died out of Rhoda. She saw tragedy in the situation, tragedy +that was not hers. She saw herself and Kut-le racially, not +individually. She saw Kut-le suffering all the helpless grief of race +alienation, saw him the victim of passions as great as the desires of +the alien races for the white always must be. Rhoda forgot herself. +She laid a slender hand on Kut-le's. + +"I am sorry," she said softly. "I think I begin to understand. But, +Kut-le, it can never, never be! You are fighting a battle that was +lost when the white and Indian races were created. It can never, never +be, Kut-le." + +The strong brown hand had closed over the small white one instantly. + +"It must be!" he said hoarsely. "I put my whole life on it! It must +be!" + +Rhoda pulled her hand away gently. + +"It never, never can be!" + +"It shall be! Love like this comes but seldom to a human. It is the +most potent thing in the world. It shall--" + +"Kut-le!" Alchise rode forward, pointing to the right. + +Rhoda followed his look. It was nearly dawn. At the right was the +sheer wall of a mesa as smooth and impregnable to her eyes as a wall of +glass. Moving toward them, silent as ghosts in the veil-like dawn, and +cutting them from the mesa, was a group of horsemen. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +TOUCH AND GO + +The John DeWitt who helped break camp after finding Rhoda's scarf was a +different man from the half-crazed person of the three days previous. +He had begun to hope. Somehow that white scarf with Rhoda's perfume +clinging to it was a living thing to him, a living, pulsing promise +that Rhoda was helping him to find her. Now, while Jack and Billy were +feverishly eager, he was cool and clear-headed, leaving the leadership +to Billy still, yet doing more than his share of the work in preparing +for the hard night ahead of them. The horses were well watered, their +own canteens were filled and saturated and food so prepared that it +could be eaten from the saddle. + +"For," said Porter, "when we do hit the little girl's trail, starvation +or thirst or high hell ain't goin' to stop us!" + +It was mid-afternoon when they started down the mountainside. There +was no trail and going was painful but the men moved with the care of +desperation. Once in the canon they moved slowly along the wall and +some two miles from where the scarf had been found, they discovered a +fault where climbing was possible. It was nearing sundown when they +reached a wide ledge where the way was easy. Porter led the way back +over this to the spot below which fluttered a white paper to mark the +place where the scarf had been found. The ledge deepened here to make +room for a tiny, bubbling spring. Giant boulders were scattered across +the rocky floor. + +The three men dismounted. The ledge gave no trace of human occupancy +and yet Porter and Jack nodded at each other. + +"Here was his camp, all right. Water, and no one could come within a +mile of him without his being seen." + +"He's still covering his traces carefully," said Jack. + +"Not so very," answered Porter. "He's banking a whole lot on our +stupidity, but Miss Tuttle beat him to it with her scarf." + +The three men treated the ledge to a microscopic examination but they +found no trace of previous occupation until Billy knelt and put his +nose against a black outcropping of stone in the wall. Then he gave a +satisfied grunt. + +"Come here, Jack, and take a sniff." + +Jack knelt obediently and cried excitedly: + +"It smells of smoke, by Jove! Don't it, John, old scout!" + +"They knew smoke wouldn't show against a black outcrop, but they didn't +bank on my nose!" said Billy complacently. "Come ahead, boys." + +A short distance from the spring they found a trail which led back up +the mountain, and as dusk came on they followed its dizzy turns until +darkness forced them to halt and wait until the moon rose. By its +light they moved up into a pinon forest. + +"Let's wait here until daylight," suggested Jack. "It's a good place +for a camp." + +"No, it's too near the ledge," objected Billy. "Of course we are +working on faith mostly. I'm no Sherlock Holmes. We'll keep to the +backbone of this range for a while. It's the wildest spot in New +Mexico. Kut-le will avoid the railroad over by the next range." + +So Billy led his little band steadfastly southward. At dawn they met a +Mexican shepherd herding his sheep in a grassy canon. Jack Newman +called to him eagerly and the Mexican as eagerly answered. A visitor +was worth a month's pay to the lonely fellow. The red of dawn was +painting the fleecy backs of his charges as the tired Americans rode +into his little camp. + +"Seen anything of an Injun running away with a white girl?" asked Billy +without preliminaries. + +The Mexican's jaw dropped. + +"_Sacra Maria_!" he gasped. "Not I! Who is she?" + +"Listen!" broke in Jack. "You be on the watch. An educated Indian has +stolen a young lady who was visiting my wife. I own the Newman ranch. +That Indian Cartwell it was, three days ago." + +John DeWitt interrupted. + +"If you can catch that Indian, if you can give us a clue to him, you +needn't herd sheep any more. Lord, man, speak up! Don't stand there +like a chump!" + +"But, senors!" stammered the poor fellow to whom this sudden torrent of +conversation was as overwhelming as a cloudburst. "But I have not +seen--" + +Billy Porter spoke again. + +"Hold up, boys! We are scaring the poor devil to death. Friend +pastor," he said, "we'll have breakfast here with you, if you don't +object, and tell you our troubles." + +The shepherd glowed with hospitality. + +"Yonder is good water and I have tortillas and frijoles." + +Unshaven and dirty, gaunt from lack of sleep, the three men dismounted +wearily and gladly turned their coffee and bacon over to the herder to +whom the mere odor of either was worth any amount of service. As they +ate, Jack and Billy quizzed the Mexican as to the topography of the +surrounding country. The little herder was a canny chap. + +"He will not try to cover his trail carefully now," he said, swallowing +huge slabs of bacon. "He has a good start. You will have to fool him. +He sleeps by day and travels by night, you will see. You are working +too hard and your horses will be dead. You should have slept last +night. Now you will lose today because you must rest your horses." + +Porter looked at his two companions. Jack was doing fairly well, but +the calm that DeWitt had found with Rhoda's scarf had deserted him. He +was eating scarcely anything and stared impatiently at the fire, +waiting for the start. + +"I'm a blamed double-action jackass, with a peanut for a mind!" +exclaimed Porter. "Taking on myself to lead this hunt when I don't +_sabe_ frijoles! We take a sleep now." + +DeWitt jumped to his feet, expostulating, but Jack and Billy laid a +hand on either of his shoulders and forced him to lie down on his +blanket. There nature claimed her own and in a short time the poor +fellow was in the slumber of exhaustion. + +"Poor old chap!" said Jack as he spread his own blanket. "I can't help +thinking all the time 'What if it were Katherine!' Dear old Rhoda! +Why, Billy, we used to play together as kids! She's slapped my face, +many a time!" + +"Probably you deserved it!" answered Billy in an uncertain voice. "By +the limping piper! I'm glad I ain't her financier. I'm most crazy, as +it is!" + +The sheep herder woke the sleepers at noon. After a bath at the +spring, and dinner, the trio felt as if reborn. They left the herder +with minute directions as to what he was to do in case he heard of +Rhoda. Then they rode out of the canon into the burning desert. + +And now for several days they lost all clues. They beat up and down +the ranges like tired hunting-dogs, all their efforts fruitless. +Little by little, panic and excitement left them. Even DeWitt realized +that the hunt was to be a long and serious one as Porter told of the +fearful chases the Apaches had led the whites, time and again. He +began to realize that to keep alive in the terrible region through +which the hunt was set he must help the others to conserve their own +and his energies. To this end they ate and slept as regularly as they +could. + +Occasionally they met other parties of searchers, but this was only +when they beat to the eastward toward the ranch, for most of the +searchers were now convinced that Kut-le had made toward Mexico and +they were patrolling the border. But Billy insisted that Kut-le was +making for some eerie that he knew and would ensconce himself there for +months, if need be, till the search was given up. Then and then only +would he make for Mexico. And John DeWitt and Jack had come to agree +with Billy. + +"He'll keep her up in some haunt of his," said Jack, again and again, +"until he's worn her into consenting to marry him. And before that +happens, if I know old Rhoda, we'll find them." + +"He's mine when we do find him, remember that," John DeWitt always said +through his teeth at this point in the discussion. + +It was on the twelfth day of the hunt that the sheep-herder found them. +They were cinching up the packs after the noon rest when he rode up on +a burro. He was dust-coated and both he and the burro were panting. + +"I've seen her! I've seen the senorita!" he shouted as he clambered +stiffly from the burro. + +The three Americans stood rigid. + +"Where? How? When?" came from three heat-cracked mouths. + +The Mexican started to answer, but his throat was raw with alkali dust +and his voice was scarcely audible. DeWitt impatiently thrust a +canteen into the little fellow's hands. + +"Hurry, for heaven's sake!" he urged. + +The Mexican took a deep draught. + +"The night after you left I moved up into the peaks, intending to cross +the range to lower pastures next day. A big storm came up and I made +camp. Then an Indian in a blanket rode up to me and asked me if I was +alone. I _sabed_ him at once. 'But yes, senor,'" I answered, "'except +for the sheep!'" + +"But Miss Tuttle! The senorita!" shouted DeWitt. + +The Mexican glanced at the tired blue eyes, the strained face, +pityingly. + +"She was well," he answered. "Be patient, senor. Then there rode up +another Indian, two squaws and what looked to be a young boy. The +Indian lifted the boy from the saddle so tenderly, senors. And it was +your senorita! She did not look strong, yet I think the Indian is +taking good care of her. They sat by the fire till the storm was over. +The senorita ignored Kut-le as if he had been a dog." + +Porter clinched his teeth at this, while Jack murmured with a gleam of +savage satisfaction in his eyes, "Old Rhoda!" But DeWitt only gnawed +his lip, with his blue eyes on the Mexican. + +"The Indian said I was to say nothing, but the senorita made him let me +tell about you after I said I had seen you. She--she cried with +happiness. They rode away in a little while but I followed as long as +I dared to leave my sheep. They were going north. I think they were +in the railroad range the night you were with me, then doubled back. I +left my sheep the next day with the salt-boy who came up. I tramped +twenty miles to the rancho and got a burro and left word about the +senorita. Then I started on your trail. Everyone I met I told. I +thought that my news was not worth much except that the senor there +would be glad to know that the Indian is tender to his senorita." + +DeWitt turned to Porter and Newman. + +"Friends, perhaps she is being taken care of!" he said. "Perhaps that +devil is trying to keep her health, at least. God! If nothing worse +has befallen her!" + +He stopped and drew his wrist across his forehead. Something like +tears shone in Jack's eyes, and Porter coughed. John turned to the +Mexican and grasped the little fellow's hand. + +"My boy," he said, "you'll never regret this day's work. If you have a +senorita you know what you have done for me!" + +The Mexican looked up into DeWitt's face seriously. + +"I have one. She has a dimple in her chin." + +John turned abruptly and stood staring into the desert while tears +seared his eyes. Billy hastily unpacked and gave Carlos and his burro +the best that the outfit afforded. + +"Can the salt-boy stay on with the sheep while you come with us?" asked +John DeWitt. "I'll pay your boss for the whole flock if anything goes +wrong." He wanted the keen wit of the herder on the hunt. + +The Mexican nodded eagerly. + +"I'll stay!" + +Shortly the four were riding northward across the desert. They were in +fairly good shape for a hard tide. Two days before, they had stopped +at Squaw Spring ranch and re-outfitted. With proper care of the horses +they were good for three weeks away from supplies. And for two weeks +now they scoured the desert, meeting scarcely a human, finding none of +the traces that Rhoda was so painfully dropping along her course. The +hugeness, the cruelty of the region drove the hopelessness of their +mission more and more deeply into DeWitt's brain. It seemed impossible +except by the merest chance to find trace of another human in a waste +so vast. It seemed to him that it was not skill but the gambler's +instinct for luck that guided Carlos and Billy. + +They rode through open desert country one afternoon, the only mountains +discernible being a far purple haze along the horizon. For hours the +little cavalcade had moved without speech. Then to the north, Porter +discerned a dot moving toward them. Gradually under their eager eyes +the dot grew into a man who staggered as he walked. When he observed +the horsemen coming toward him he sat down and waited. + +"Jim Provenso! By the limping Piper!" cried Billy. "Thought you was +in Silver City." + +Jim was beyond useless speech. He caught the canteen which Jack swung +to him and drank deeply. Then he said hoarsely: + +"I almost got away with the Tuttle girl last week!" + +Every man left his saddle as if at a word of command. Jim took another +drink. + +"If I catch that Injun alone I'll cut his throat!" + +"Was Miss Tuttle bad off?" gasped Porter. + +"She? Naw; she looked fine. He sassed me, though, as I won't take it +from any man!" + +"Tell us what happened, for heaven's sake," cried DeWitt, eying +Provenso disgustedly. + +Jim told his story in detail. + +"That Injun Alkus," he ended, "he tied a rag over my eyes, tied my +hands up and, say, he lost me for fair! He took all day to it. At +night he tied me up to a tree and I stood there all night before I got +my hands loose. I was sure lost, now, I can tell you! I struck a +cowman up on the range the next night. He give me some grub and a +canteen and I made out pretty good till yesterday, working south all +the time. Then I got crazy with thirst and threw my canteen away. +Found a spring last night again, but I'm about all in." + +"How did Miss Tuttle seem?" asked John with curious quietness. It +seemed to him the strangest thing of all that first the Mexican, then +this coarse, tramp-like fellow, should have talked to Rhoda while he +could only wander wildly through the Hades of the desert without a +trace of her camp to solace him. + +"Say, she was looking good! She thanked me and told me to tell you all +to hurry." + +They gave to Provenso a burro whose pack was nearly empty, what food +and water they could spare, and he left them. They started on +dejectedly. Provenso had told them where Kut-le had camped ten days +before. + +They could only find that spot and attempt to pick up the trail from +there. + +"Just the same," said Billy, "it's just as well he didn't get away with +Miss Rhoda. He's a tough pill, that Provenso. She'd better be with +the Injun than him!" + +"Provenso must be a bad lot," said Jack. + +"He is!" replied Billy grimly. + +The camp was made that night near a smooth-faced mesa. Before dawn +they had eaten breakfast and were mounting, when Carlos gave a low +whistle. Every ear was strained. On the exquisite stillness of the +dawn sounded a woman's voice which a man's voice answered. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +A LONG TRAIL + +Rhoda gave a cry of joy. From the horsemen rose a sudden shout. + +"Spread! Spread! There they are!" + +"Don't shoot!" It was Porter's voice, shrill and high with excitement. +"That's her, the boy there! Rhoda! Rhoda! We're coming!" + +With a quick responsive cry, Rhoda struck her horse. With the blow, +Kut-le leaned from his own horse and seized her bridle, turning her +horse with his own away from the mesa and to the left. The other +Indians followed and with hoarse cries of exultation the rescuers took +up the pursuit. + +Rhoda looked back. + +"Shoot!" she screamed. "Shoot!" + +Before the second scream had left her lips she was lifted bodily from +the saddle to Kut-le's arms where, understanding his device, she +struggled like a mad woman. But she only wasted her strength. Without +a glance at her, Kut-le turned his pony almost in its tracks and made +for the mesa. + +"Cut him off! He'll get away from us!" It was DeWitt's voice, and +"John! John DeWitt!" Rhoda cried. + +But the young Indian had gaged his distance well. He brought his horse +to its haunches and with Rhoda in his arms was running into a fissure +seemingly too narrow for human to enter, while the pursuers were still +a hundred yards away. + +"Hold 'em, Alchise!" he said briefly as he ran. + +Alchise, with rifle cocked, stopped by the opening. The fissure +widened immediately into a narrow passageway. High, high above them +rolled a strip of pink and blue morning sky. Before them was a +seemingly interminable crevice along which the squaws scuttled. As +Rhoda watched them they disappeared around a sudden curve. When Kut-le +reached this point with his burden, the squaws were climbing like +monkeys up the wall which here gave back, roughly, ending the fissure +in a rude chimney which it seemed to Rhoda only a bear or an Apache +could have climbed. Kut-le set Rhoda on her feet. She looked up into +his face mockingly. To her mind she was as good as rescued. But the +young Apache seemed in no wise hurried or excited. + +"Our old friends seem to want something!" he commented with his boyish +grin. + +"What are you going to do now?" asked Rhoda, with calm equal to the +Apache's. + +"I can't carry you up this wall," suggested Kut-le. + +"Very well!" returned Rhoda pleasantly. "I am quite willing that you +should leave me here." + +Kut-le's eyes glittered. + +"Rhoda, you must climb this wall with me!" + +"I won't!" replied Rhoda laconically. + +"Then I shall force you to," said the Indian, shifting his rifle and +prodding Rhoda ever so gently with the barrel. + +Rhoda gave Kut-le a look of scorn that he was not soon to forget and +slowly mounted the first broken ledge. The wall was composed of a +series of jutting rocks and of ledges that barely offered hand or foot +hold. Up and up and up! Kut-le was now beside her, now above her, now +lifting, now pulling. Half-way to the top, Rhoda stopped, dizzy and +afraid. Kneeling on the ledge above, with one hand thrust down to lift +her, Kut-le looked into her eyes almost pleadingly. That handsome face +so close to hers affected Rhoda strangely. + +"Don't be afraid," whispered Kut-le. "Nothing can happen to you while +I am taking care of you." + +Rhoda looked into his eyes proudly. + +"I am not afraid," she said, reaching for a fresh handhold with +trembling fingers. + +The jutting rocks were sharp. Kut-le from his ledge saw Rhoda look at +her hold then turn white. Her nails were torn to the quick and +bleeding. She swayed with only an atom of gravity lacking to send her +to death below. Instantly Kut-le was back beside her, his sinewy hand +between her shoulders, supporting and lifting her to the ledge above. +As they neared the top the broken surface became prickly with cactus +and Rhoda winced with misery as the thorns pierced and tore her flesh. +But finally, in what actually had been an incredibly short time, they +emerged on the plateau, where the two squaws huddled high above the +pursuers. + +"They think they have you now!" said Kut-le, as Rhoda dropped panting +to the ground. "We must move out of here before they investigate the +mesa top." + +He allowed, however, a few minutes' breathing spell for Rhoda. She sat +quietly, though her gray eyes were brilliant with excitement. It +seemed to her but a matter of a few hours now when she would be with +her own. Yet she could not but notice with that curious observance of +detail which comes at moments of intensest excitement the varied colors +of the distances that opened before her. The great mesa on which she +sat was a mighty peninsula of chalcedony that stretched into the +desert. It was patched by rocks of lavender, of yellow, and of green, +and belled over by the intensity of the morning blue above. + +"Come!" said Kut-le. "There will be little rest for us today." + +Rhoda rose, took a few staggering steps, then sat down. + +"I can't start yet," she said. "I'm too worn out." + +Kut-le's expression was amused while it was impatient. + +"I suppose you may be sleepy, but I think you can walk a little way. +Hurry, Rhoda! Hurry!" + +Rhoda sat staring calmly into the palpitating blue above. + +"I hate to have you carry me," she said after a moment, "but I don't +feel at all like walking!" + +Her tired face was irresistibly lovely as she looked up at the Apache, +but by an effort he remained obdurate. + +"You must walk as long as you can," he insisted. "We have got to +hustle today!" + +"I really don't feel like hustling!" sighed Rhoda. + +"Rhoda!" cried Kut-le impatiently, "get up and walk after me! Cesca, +see that the white squaw keeps moving!" and he handed his rifle to the +brown hag who took it with evident pleasure. Molly ran forward as if +to protest but at a look from Kut-le she dropped back. + +Rhoda rose slowly, with her lower lip caught between her teeth. She +followed silently after Kut-le, Cesca and the rifle at her shoulder and +Molly in the rear. It seemed to the girl that of all the strange +scenes through which the past weeks had carried her this was of all the +most unreal. All about her was a world of vivid rock heaps so +intensely colored that she doubted her vision. Away to the south lay +the boundless floor of the desert, a purple and gold infinity that +rolled into the horizon. Far to the north mountains were faintly blue +in the yellow sunlight. + +Kut-le headed straight for the mountains. His pace was swift and +unrelenting. Almost immediately Rhoda felt the debilitating effects of +overheat. The sun, now sailing high, burned through her flannel shirt +until her flesh was blistered beneath it. The light on the brilliantly +colored rocks made her eyes blink with pain. Before long she was +parched with thirst and faint with hunger. This was her first +experience in tramping for any distance under the desert sun. But +Kut-le kept the pace long after the two squaws were half leading, half +carrying the girl. + +Rhoda had long since learned the uselessness of protesting. She kept +on until the way danced in reeling colors before her eyes. Then +without a sound she dropped in the scant shadow of a rock. At the cry +from Molly, Kut-le turned, and after one glance at Rhoda's white face +and limp figure he knelt in the sand and lifted the drooping, yellow +head. Molly unslung her canteen and forced a few drops of water +between Rhoda's lips. Then she tenderly chafed the small hands and the +delicate throat and Rhoda opened her eyes. Immediately Kut-le lifted +her in his arms and the flight was resumed. + +At short intervals during the morning, Rhoda walked, but for the most +part Kut-le packed her as dispassionately as if she had been a lame +puppy. He held her across his broad chest as if her fragile weight +were nothing. Lying so, Rhoda watched the merciless landscape or the +brown squaws jogging at Kut-le's heels. Surely, she thought, the +ancient mesa never had seen a stranger procession or known of a wilder +mission. She looked up into Kut-le's face and wondered as she stared +at his bare head how his eyes could look so steadily into the +sun-drenched landscape. + +As she lay, the elation of the early morning left her. More and more +surely the conviction came to her that the Apache's boast was true; +that no white could catch him on his own ground. Dizzy and ill from +the heat, she closed her eyes and lay without hope or coherent thought. + +At noon they stopped for a short time that Rhoda might eat. Their +resting-place was in the shadow of a beetling, weather-beaten rock that +still bore traces of hieroglyphic carvings. There were broken bits of +clay pots among the tufts of cactus. Rhoda stared at them languidly +and wondered what the forgotten vessels could have contained in a +region so barren of life or hope. + +Kut-le strolled over to a cat's-claw bush at whose base lay a tangle of +dead leaves. With a bit of stick, he scattered this litter, struck the +ground several good blows and returned with a string of fat desert +mice. With infinite care Cesca kindled a fire so tiny, so clear, that +scarcely a wisp of smoke escaped into the quivering air. Into this she +flung the eviscerated mice and in an instant the tiny things were a +delicate brown. The aroma was pleasant but Rhoda turned whiter still +when Molly brought her the fattest of the mice. + +"Take it away!" she whispered. "Take it away!" + +Molly looked at the girl in stupid surprise. + +"You must eat, Rhoda girl!" said Kut-le. + +Rhoda made no reply but leaned limply against the ancient rock, her +golden hair touching the crude drawings of long ago. She was a very +different Rhoda from the eager girl of the early morning. She ignored +every effort Kut-le made to tempt her to eat. Her tired gaze wandered +to her hands, still blood-grimed, and her cleft chin quivered. Kut-le +saw the expressive little look. + +"I'm sorry," he said simply. + +Rhoda looked up at him. + +"I don't believe you," she returned calmly. + +The Indian's jaw stiffened. + +"Come, we'll start now." + +The afternoon was like the morning, except that the sun was more +burning overhead, the way more scorching underfoot; except that the +course became more broken, the clambering heavier, the drops more +wracking. All the afternoon, Kut-le carried Rhoda. At last the sun +sank below the mesa and the day was ended. + +The place of their camping seemed to Rhoda damp and cold. It was close +beside a spring that gave out a faint, miasmic odor. The bitter water +was grateful, however. Again more mice were seered over before the +fire was stamped out hastily. This time Rhoda forced herself to eat. +Then she drank deeply of the bitter water and lay down on the cold +ground. Despite the fact that she was shivering with the cold, she +fell asleep at once. Toward midnight she awoke and moving close to +Molly's broad back for warmth, she looked up into the sky. For the +first time the great southern stars seemed near and kindly to her and +before she fell asleep again she wondered why. + +At earliest peep of dawn the squaws were astir waiting for Kut-le, who +shortly staggered into camp with a load of meat on his shoulder. +Alchise was with him. + +"Mule meat!" said Kut-le to Rhoda. "I went to find horses but there +was nothing but an old lame mule, I brought him back this way!" + +"Heavens!" ejaculated Rhoda. + +The squaws worked busily, cutting the meat into strips which they hung +over their shoulders to sun dry during the day. Alchise cleansed a +length of mule's intestine in the spring, to serve as a canteen. Rhoda +gave small heed to these preparations. She was too ill and feverish +even to be disgusted by them. She refused to eat but drank constantly +from the spring. When at Kut-le's command she took up the march with +the others the young man eyed her anxiously. He slung Molly's canteen +from his own to Alchise's shoulder and felt Rhoda's pulse. + +"This water was bad for you," he said. "But it was the only spring +within miles. Perhaps you will throw off the effects of it when we get +into the heat of the sun." + +Rhoda made no reply but staggered miserably after Molly. The spring +lay in a pocket between mountains and mesa. The mountains seemed +cruelly high to Rhoda as she looked at them and thought of toiling +across them. With head sunk on her breast and feverishly twitching +hands she followed for half an hour. Then Kut-le turned. + +"I'm going to carry you, Rhoda," he said. + +The girl shrank away from him. + +"You and Molly and all of them think I'm just a parasite," she +muttered. "You don't have to do anything for me! Just let me drop +anywhere and die!" + +Kut-le looked at her strangely. Without comment, he picked her up. +There was a sternly tender look on his face that never had been there +before. He did not carry her dispassionately today, but very gently. +Something in his manner pierced through Rhoda's half delirium and she +looked up at him with a faint replica of her old lovely smile that +Kut-le had not seen since he had stolen her. He trembled at its beauty +and started forward at a tremendous pace. + +"I'll get you to good water by noon," he said. + +At noon they were well up in the mountains by a clear spring fringed +with aspens. Watercress grew below it, and high above it were pines +and junipers. It was a spot of surpassing loveliness, but Rhoda, +tossing and panting, could not know it, Kut-le laid his burden on the +ground and Molly drew off her tattered petticoat to lay beneath the +feverish head. The young Apache stood looking down at the little +figure, so graceful in its boyish abandonment of gesture, so pitiful in +its broken unconsciousness. Molly bathed the burning face and hands in +the pure cold water, muttering tender Apache phrases. Kut-le +constantly interrupted her to change the girl's position. For an hour +or so he waited for the fever to turn. By three o'clock there was no +change for the better and he left Rhoda's side to pace back and forth +by the spring in anxious thought. + +At last he came to a conclusion and with stern set face he issued a few +short orders to his companions. The canteens were refilled. Kut-le +lifted Rhoda and the trail was taken to the west. Alchise would have +relieved him of his burden, willingly, but Kut-le would not listen to +it. Molly trotted anxiously by the young Apache's side, constantly +moistening the girl's lips with water. + +Rhoda was quite delirious now. She murmured and sometimes sobbed, +trying to free herself from Kut-le's arms. + +"I'm not sick!" she said, looking up into the Indian's face with +unseeing eyes. "Don't let him see that I am sick!" + +"No! No! Dear one!" answered Kut-le. + +"Don't let him see I'm sick!" she sobbed. "He hurts me so!" + +"No! No!" exclaimed Kut-le huskily. "Molly, give her a little more +water!" + +"Molly!" panted Rhoda, "you tell him how hard I worked--how I earned my +way a little! And don't let him do anything for me!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE TURN IN THE TRAIL + +The little group, trudging the long difficult trail along the mountain +was a rich study in degrees: Rhoda, the fragile Caucasian, a product of +centuries of civilization; and Kut-le, the Indian, with the keenness, +the ferocious courage, the cunning of the Indian leavened inextricably +with the thousand softening influences of a score of years' contact +with civilization; then Cesca, the lean and stoical product of an +ancient and terrible savagery; and Alchise, her mate. Finally +Molly--squat, dirty Molly--the stupid, squalid aborigine, as distinct +from Cesca's type as is the brown snail from the stinging wasp. + +Alchise, striding after his chief, was smitten with a sudden idea. +After ruminating on it for some time, he communicated it to his squaw. +Cesca shook her head with a grunt of disapproval. Alchise insisted and +the squaw looked at Kut-le cunningly. + +"_Quien sabe_?" she said at last. + +At this Alchise hurried forward and touched Kut-le on the shoulder. + +"Take 'em squaw to Reservation. Medicine dance. Squaw heap sick. +_Sabe_?" + +"Reservation's too far away," replied Kut-le, shifting Rhoda's head to +lie more easily on his arm. "I'm making for Chira." + +Alchise shook his head vigorously. + +"Too many mens! We go Reservation. Alchise help carry sick squaw." + +"Nope! You're way off, Alchise. I'm going where I can get some white +man's medicine the quickest. I'm not so afraid of getting caught as I +am of her getting a bad run of fever. I have friends at Chira." + +Alchise fell back, muttering disappointment. White man's medicine was +no good. He cared little about Rhoda but he adored Kut-le. It was +necessary therefore that the white squaw be saved, since his chief +evidently was quite mad about her. All the rest of the day Alchise was +very thoughtful. Late at night the next halt was made. High up in the +mountain on a sheltered ledge Kut-le laid down his burden. + +"Keep her quiet till I get back," he said, and disappeared. + +Rhoda was in a stupor and lay quietly unconscious with the stars +blinking down on her, a limp dark heap against the mountain wall. The +three Indians munched mule meat, then Molly curled herself on the +ground and in three minutes was snoring. Alchise stood erect and still +on the ledge for perhaps ten minutes after Kut-le's departure. Then he +touched Cesca on the shoulder, lifted Rhoda in his arms and, followed +by Cesca, left the sleeping Molly alone on the ledge. + +Swiftly, silently, Alchise strode up the mountainside, Rhoda making +neither sound nor motion. For hours, with wonderful endurance the two +Indians held the pace. They moved up the mountain to the summit, which +they crossed, then dropped rapidly downward. Just at dawn Alchise +stopped at a gray _campos_ under some pines and called. A voice from +the hut answered him. The canvas flap was put back and an old Indian +buck appeared, followed by several squaws and young bucks, yawning and +staring. + +Alchise laid Rhoda on the ground while he spoke rapidly to the Indian. +The old man protested at first but on the repeated use of Kut-le's name +he finally nodded and Alchise carried Rhoda into the _campos_. A squaw +kindled a fire which, blazing up brightly, showed a huge, dark room, +canvas-roofed and dirt-floored, quite bare except for the soiled +blankets on the floor. + +Rhoda was laid in the center of the hut. The old buck knelt beside +her. He was very old indeed. His time-ravaged features were lean and +ascetic. His clay-matted hair was streaked with white; his black eyes +were deep-sunk and his temples were hollow. But there was a fine sort +of dignity about the old medicine-man, despite his squalor. He gazed +on Rhoda in silence for some time. Alchise and Cesca sat on the floor, +and little by little they were joined by a dozen other Indians who +formed a circle about the girl. The firelight flickered on the dark, +intent faces and on Rhoda's delicate beauty as she lay passing rapidly +from stupor to delirium. + +Suddenly the old man raised his lean hand, shaking a gourd filled with +pebbles, and began softly to chant. Instantly the other Indians joined +him and the _campos_ was filled with the rhythm of a weird song. Rhoda +tossed her arms and began to cough a little from the smoke. The chant +quickened. It was but the mechanical repetition of two notes falling +always from high to low. Yet it had an indescribable effect of +melancholy, this aboriginal song. It was as hopeless and melancholy as +all of nature's chants: the wail of the wind, the sob of the rain, the +beat of the waves. + +Rhoda sat erect, her eyes wild and wide. The old buck, without ceasing +his song, attempted to thrust her back with one lean brown claw, but +Rhoda struck him feebly. + +"Go away!" she cried. "Be quiet! You hurt my head! Don't make that +dreadful noise!" + +The chant quickened. The medicine-man now rocked back and forth on his +knees, accenting the throb of the song by beating his bare feet on the +earth. He seemed by some strange suppleness to flatten his instep +paddle-wise and to bring the entire leg from toe to knee at one blow +against the ground. Never did his glowing old eyes leave Rhoda's face. + +The girl, thrown into misery and excitement by the insistence of the +chant, began to wring her hands. The words said nothing to her but the +rhythmic repetition of the notes told her a story as old as life +itself: that life passes swifter than a weaver's shuttle, and without +hope; that our days are as grass and as the clouds that are consumed +and are no more; that the soul sinks to the land of darkness and of the +shadow of death. Rhoda struggled, with horror in her eyes, to rise; +but the old man with a hand on her shoulder forced her back on the +blanket. + +"Oh, what is it!" wailed Rhoda, clutching at the mass of yellow-brown +hair about her face. "Where am I? What are you doing? Have I died? +Where is Kut-le? Kut-le!" she screamed. "Kut-le!" + +The medicine-man held her to the blanket and for a time she sat +quiescent. Then as the Indian lifted his hand from her shoulder the +bewilderment of her gray eyes changed to the wildness of delirium. She +looked toward the doorway where the dawn light made but little headway +against the dark interior. With one blue-veined hand on her panting +breast she slowly, stealthily gathered herself together, and with +unbelievable swiftness she sprang for the square of dawn light. She +leaped almost into the arms of a young buck who sat near the door. He +bore her back to her place while the chant continued without +interruption. + +Exhausted, Rhoda lay listening to the song. Gradually it began to +exert its hypnotic influence over her. Its sense of melancholy +enveloped her drug-like. She lay prone, the tears coursing down her +cheeks, her twitching hands turned upward beside her. Slowly she +floated outward upon a dark sea whose waves beat a ceaseless requiem of +anguish on her ears. It seemed to her that she was enduring all the +sorrows of the ages; that she was brain-tortured by the death agonies +of all humanity; that all the uselessness, all the meaninglessness, all +the utter weariness of the death-ridden world pressed upon her, +suffocating her, forcing her to stillness, slowing the beating of her +heart, the intake of her breath. Slowly her white lids closed, yet +with one last conscious cry for life: + +"Kut-le!" she wailed. "Kut-le!" + +A quick shadow filled the doorway. + +"Here, Rhoda! Here!" + +Kut-le bounded into the room, upsetting the medicine-man, and lifted +Rhoda in his arms. She clung to him wildly. + +"Take me away, Kut-le! Take me away!" + +He soothed her with great tenderness. + +"Dear one!" he murmured. "Dear one!" and she closed her eyes quietly. + +During this time the Indians sat silent and watchful. Kut-le turned to +Alchise. + +"You cursed fool!" he said. + +"She get well now," replied Alchise anxiously. "Alchise save her for +you. Molly tell you where come." + +For a moment Kut-le stared at Alchise; then, as if realizing the +futility of speech, "Come!" he said, and ignoring the other Indians, he +strode from the _campos_. Alchise and Cesca followed him, and outside +the anxious Molly seized Rhoda's limp hand with a little cry of joy. +Kut-le led the way to a quiet spot among the pines. Here he laid Rhoda +on a sheepskin and covered her with a tattered blanket, the spoils of +his previous night's trip. + +About the middle of the morning Rhoda opened her eyes. As she stirred, +Kut-le came to her. + +"I've had such horrible dreams, Kut-le. You won't go and leave me to +the Indians again?" + +This appeal from Rhoda in her weakness almost overcame Kut-le but he +only smoothed her tangled hair and answered: + +"No, dear one!" + +"Where are we now?" she asked feebly. + +Kut-le smiled. + +"In the Rockies." + +"I think I am very sick," continued Rhoda. "Do you think we can stay +quiet in one place today?" + +Kut-le shook his head. + +"I am going to get you to some quinine as quick as I can. There is +some about twenty-four hours from here." + +Rhoda's eyes widened. + +"Shall I be with white people?" + +"Don't bother. You'll have good care." + +The light faded from Rhoda's eyes. + +"It's hard for me, isn't it?" she said, as if appealing to the college +man of the ranch. + +"Rhoda! Rhoda!" whispered Kut-le, "your suffering kills me! But I +must have you, I must!" + +Rhoda moved her head impatiently, as if the Indian's tense, handsome +face annoyed her. She refused food but drank deeply of the tepid water +and shortly they were again on the trail. + +For several hours Rhoda lay in Kut-le's arms, weak and ill but with +lucid mind. They were making their way up a long canon. It was very +narrow. Rhoda could see the individual leaves of the aspens on the +opposite wall as they moved close in the shadow of the other. The +floor, watered by a clear brook, was level and green. On either side +the walls were murmurous with delicately quivering aspens and sighing +pines. + +Suddenly Cesca gave a grunt of warning. Far down the valley a +sheep-herder was approaching with his flocks. Kut-le turned to the +right and Alchise sprang to his aid. In the shelter of the trees, +Kut-le twisted a handkerchief across Rhoda's mouth; and in reply to her +outraged eyes, he said: + +"I don't mind single visitors as a rule but I haven't time to fuss with +one now." + +Together the two men carried Rhoda up the canon-side. They lifted her +from trunk to trunk, now a root-hold, now a jutting bit of rock, till +far up the sheer wall. Rhoda lay at last on a little ledge heaped with +pine-needles. By the time the Indians were settled on the rock Rhoda +was delirious again. The fever had returned twofold and Molly's entire +efforts were toward keeping the tossing form on the ledge. + +Slowly, very slowly, the herder, a sturdy ragged Mexican, moved up the +canon, pausing now and again to scratch his head. He was whistling _La +Paloma_. The Indians' black eyes did not leave him and after his +flute-like notes had melted into the distance they still crouched in +cramped stillness on the ledge. + +But shortly Kut-le freed Rhoda's mouth, gave Alchise a swift look, and +with infinite care the descent was begun. Kut-le did not like +traveling in the daylight, for many reasons. Carefully, swiftly they +moved up the canon, always hugging the wall. Late in the afternoon +they emerged on an open mesa. All the wretched day Rhoda had traveled +in a fearsome world of her own, peopled with uncanny figures, alight +with a glare that seared her eyes, held in a vice that gripped her +until she screamed with restless pain. The song that the shepherd had +whistled tortured her tired brain. + + "The day that I left my home for the rolling sea, + I said, 'Mother dear, O pray to thy God for me!' + But e'er we set sail I went a fond leave to take--" + +Over and over she sang the three lines, ending each time with a +frightened stare up into Kut-le's face. + +"Whom did I say good-by to? Whom? But they don't care!" + +Then again the tired voice: + + "The day that I left my home for the rolling sea--" + +Night came and the weary, weary crossing of a craggy, heavily wooded +mountain. Kut-le did not relinquish his burden. He seemed not to tire +of the weight of the slender body that lay now in helpless stupor. If +the squaws or Alchise felt fatigue or impatience as Kut-le held them to +a pace on the tortuous trail that would nearly have exhausted a +Caucasian athlete, they gave no sign. All the endless night Kut-le led +the way under the midnight blackness of the pinon or the violet light +of the stars, until the lifting light of the dawn found them across the +ranges and standing at the edge of a little river. + +In the dim light there lifted a terraced adobe building with ladders +faintly outlined on the terraces. There was no sound save the barking +of a dog and the ripple of the river. With a muttered admonition, +Kut-le left Rhoda to the others and climbed one of the ladders. He +returned with a blanketed figure that gazed on Rhoda non-committally. +At a sign, Kut-le lifted Rhoda, and the little group moved noiselessly +toward the dwelling, clambered up a ladder, and disappeared. + +Rhoda opened her eyes with a sense of physical comfort that confused +her. She was lying on the floor of a long, gray-walled room. In one +corner was a tiny adobe fire-place from which a tinier fire threw a jet +of flame color on the Navajo that lay before the hearth. Along the +walls were benches with splendid Navajos rolled cushion-wise upon them. +Above the benches hung several rifles with cougarskin quivers beneath +them. A couple of cheap framed mirrors were hung with silver necklaces +of beautiful workmanship. In a corner a table was set with heavy but +shining china dishes. + +Rhoda stared with increasing wonder. She was very weak and spent but +her head was clear. She lifted her arms and looked at them. She was +wearing a loose-fitting gray garment of a strange weave. She fingered +it, more and more puzzled. + +"You wake now?" asked a low voice. + +Coming softly down the room was an Indian woman of comely face and +strange garb. Over a soft shirt of cut and weave such as Rhoda had on, +she wore a dark overdress caught at one shoulder and reaching only to +the knees. A many-colored girdle confined the dress at the waist. Her +legs and feet were covered with high, loose moccasins. Her black hair +hung free on her shoulders. + +"You been much sick," the woman went on, "much sick," stooping to +straighten Rhoda's blanket. + +"Where am I?" asked Rhoda. + +"At Chira. You eat breakfast?" + +Rhoda caught the woman's hand. + +"Who are you?" she asked. "You have been very good to me." + +"Me Marie," replied the woman. + +"Where are Kut-le and the others?" + +"Kut-le here. Others in mountain. You much sick, three days." + +Rhoda sighed. Would this kaleidoscope of misery never end! + +"I am very tired of it all," she said. "I think it would have been +kinder if you had let me die. Will you help me to get back to my white +friends?" + +Marie shook her head. + +"Kut-le friend. We take care Kut-le's squaw." + +Rhoda turned wearily on her side. + +"Go away and let me sleep," she said. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE CROSSING TRAILS + +As Kut-le, with Rhoda in his arms, disappeared into the mesa fissure, +John DeWitt threw himself from his horse and was at the opening before +the others had more than brought their horses to their haunches. + +He was met by Alchise's rifle, with Alchise entirely hidden from view. +For a moment the four men stood panting and speechless. The encounter +had been so sudden, so swift that they could not believe their senses. +Then Billy Porter uttered an oath that reverberated from the rocky wall. + +"They will get to the top!" he cried. "Jack, you and DeWitt get up +there! Carlos and I will hold this!" + +The two men mounted immediately and galloped along the mesa wall, +looking for an ascent. Neither of them spoke but both were breathing +hard, and through his blistered skin DeWitt's cheeks glowed feverishly. +For a mile up and down from the fissure the wall was a blank, except +for a single wide split which did not come within fifty feet of the +ground. After over half an hour of frantic search, DeWitt found, +nearly three miles from the fissure, a rough spot where the wall gave +back in a few narrow crumbling ledges. + +"We'll have to leave the horses," he said, "and try that." + +Jack nodded tensely. They dismounted, pulled the reins over the +horses' heads and started up the wall, John leading, carefully. One +bitter lesson the desert was teaching him: haste in the hot country +spells ruin! So, though Rhoda's voice still rang in his ears, though +the sight of the slender boyish figure struggling in Kut-le's arms +still ravished his eyes, he worked carefully. + +The ascent was all but impossible. The few jutting ledges were so +narrow that foothold was precarious, so far apart that only the slight +backward slant of the wall made it possible for them to flatten their +bodies against the crumbling brown rock and thus keep from falling. +They toiled desperately, silently. After an hour of utmost effort, +they reached the top, and with an exclamation of exultation started in +the direction of the fissure. But their exultation was short-lived. +The great split that stopped fifty feet from the desert floor cut them +off from the main mesa. They ran hastily along its edge but at no +point was it to be crossed. Shortly DeWitt left Jack to follow it back +and he hastened to the mesa front where he made a perilous descent and +returned with the horses to Porter. + +That gentleman forced John to eat some breakfast while Carlos rode +hastily to scour the mesa front to the west. Porter and the Mexican +had captured two of the horses and the burro that the Indians had left. +The other horses had run out into the desert back to the last spring +they had camped at, Porter said. To DeWitt's great disappointment, the +horses carried only blankets, and the burro was loaded with bacon and +flour. There were none of Rhoda's personal belongings. The animals +were in good condition, however, and the men annexed them to their +outfit gladly. + +John was torn betwixt hope and bitter disappointment. + +"Do you think they could climb out of the fissure?" he asked half a +dozen times, then without waiting for an answer, "Did you see her face, +Billy? I had just a glimpse! Didn't she look well! Just that one +glance has put new life in me! I know we will get her! Even this +cursed desert isn't wide enough to keep me from her! God help that +Indian when I get him!" + +Porter kept his eyes on Alchise's rifle which had never wavered in the +past three hours. + +"I've a notion to shoot the barrel off that thing just for luck!" he +growled. "John, sit down! You will need all the strength you've got +and then some before you catch that Injun!" + +"What are you going to do?" asked John, seating himself in the sand +some few feet from the fissure. + +"The big probability is," said Billy, "that they are in the crack. It +would be just about impossible for a girl to climb out of one of 'em. +If they have got out, though, it's just a matter of finding their trail +again. We'll have 'em! It's just this chance crack that saved 'em. +If you're rested, ride along the west wall and try for the top again." + +For the next five hours, Porter guarded the mesa front alone. It was +nearing six o'clock when Jack returned, exhausted and disappointed. He +had followed the great split back until the mesa top became so cut and +striated with mighty fissures that progress was impossible. + +"Isn't it the devil's own luck," he growled to Porter as he ate, "that +we should have let him get into that one crack! What next! Unless +they are still in there, we've lost them and are just losing time +squatting here." + +As he spoke, there was a sound of voices in the fissure. The two men +cocked their rifles as John and Carlos emerged from the opening. John +was scowling and breathless. + +"Lost 'em as usual, by our infernal stupidity," he panted, while Carlos +dropped his empty canteen and lifted Porter's to his lips. "I rode +round to the south of the mesa. There are a couple of possible ascents +there. I found Carlos making one. We followed a dozen fissures before +we located this one. We got into it about a mile back from here. +Here's a basket we found at the bottom in a burlap bag." + +He tossed one of Cesca's pitch baskets at Billy, then threw himself in +the sand. + +"They were down off the mesa, I bet," he went on, "before we fools +found the way up, and it was easy for the chap they left guarding the +entrance to avoid us. The mesa is covered with big rocks." + +"He got away within the last half-hour then," said Billy, "for I didn't +stir from this spot until the burro started to eat the grub pack, and I +naturally had to wrestle with him. And no human being could a got out +the front even then." + +"God! What a country!" groaned DeWitt. "The Indians outwit us at +every step!" + +"Well," Jack answered dejectedly, "tell us what we could have done +differently." + +"I'm not blaming any one," replied John. + +Billy Porter rose briskly. + +"You boys quit your kicking. The scent is still warm. You fellows get +a couple of hours' sleep while I take the horses back to Coyote Hole +for water. By daylight we got to be on the south side of the mesa to +pick up the trail." + +Billy's businesslike manner heartened Jack and John DeWitt. They +turned in beside Carlos, who already was sleeping. + +Dawn found them examining the ascents on the south side of the mesa but +they found no traces and as the sun came well up they followed the only +possible way toward the mountains. At noon they found a low spring in +a pocket between mesa and mountain. Kut-le was growing either defiant +or careless, for he had left a heap of ashes and a pile of half-eaten +desert mice. Very much cheered they allowed the horses a fair rest. +They found no further traces of camp or trail that day and made camp +that night in the open desert. + +At dawn they were crossing a heavily wooded mountain. The sun had not +yet risen when they heard a sound of singing. + +"What's that?" asked DeWitt sharply, as the four pulled up their horses. + +"A medicine cry," answered Jack. "We must be near some medicine-man's +_campos_." + +"Come on," cried DeWitt, "we'll quiz them!" + +"Hold up, you chump!" exclaimed Billy. "If you rush in on a cry that +way you are apt not to come back again. You've got to go at 'em +careful. Let me do the talking." + +They rode toward the sound of the chant and shortly a dingy _campos_ +came into view. An Indian buck made his way from the doorway toward +them. + +"Who is sick, friend?" asked Billy. + +"Old buck," said the Indian. + +"Apache?" said Billy. + +The Indian nodded. + +"You _sabe_ Apache named Kut-le?" + +The buck shook his head, but Billy went on patiently. + +"Yes, you _sabe_ him. He old Ke-say's son. Apache chief's son. He +run off with white squaw. We want squaw, we no hurt him. Squaw sick, +no good for Injun. You tell, have money." Billy displayed a silver +dollar. + +The Indian brightened. + +"Long time 'go, some Injun say he _sabe_ Kut-le. Some Injun say he all +same white man. Some Injun say he heap smart." He looked at Billy +inquiringly, and Billy nodded approval. DeWitt swallowed nervously. +"Come two, three day 'go," the buck went on, his eyes on the silver +dollar, "big Injun, carry white squaw, go by here very fast. He go +that way all heap fast." The buck pointed south. + +"Did he speak to you? What did he say?" cried DeWitt. + +But the Indian lapsed into silence and refused to speak more. Porter +felt well rewarded for his efforts and tossed the dollar to the Indian. + +"Gee!" said Billy, as they started elated down the mountain. "I wish +we could overtake him before he outfits again. That poverty-stricken +lot couldn't have had any horses here for him to use. I'll bet he +makes for the nearest ranch where he could steal a good bunch. That +would be at Kelly's, sixty miles south of here. We'll hike for +Kelly's!" + +This idea did not meet with enthusiastic approval from the other three +but as no one had a better suggestion to make, the trail to Kelly's was +taken. It seemed to John Dewitt that Billy relied little on science +and much on intuition in trailing the Indians. At first, considering +Porter's early boasts about his skill, DeWitt was much disappointed by +the old-timer's haphazard methods. But after a few weeks' testing of +the terrible hardships of the desert, after a few demonstrations of the +Apache's cleverness, John had concluded that intuition was the most +reliable weapon that the whites could hope to discover with which to +offset the Indian's appalling skill and knowledge. + +It was an exhausted quartet with its string of horses that drew up at +Kelly's dusty corral. Dick Kelly, a stocky Irishman, greeted the +strangers pleasantly. When, however, he learned their names he rose to +the occasion as only an Irishman can. + +"You gentlemen are at the end of your rope, wid the end frayed at +that!" he said. "Now come in for a few hours' rest and the Chinaman +will cook you the best meal he knows how." + +"Lord, no!" cried Billy. "We're so close on the track now that we can +hang on to the end. If you've had no trace here we'll just double back +and start from the mountains again!" + +By this time a dozen cowboys and ranch hands were gathered about the +newcomers. Every one knew about Rhoda's disappearance. Every one knew +about every man in the little search party. In the flicker of the +lanterns the men looked pityingly at DeWitt's haggard face. + +"Say," said a tall, lank cowman, "if you'll go in and sleep till +daylight, usn'll scour this part of the desert with a fine-tooth comb. +So you all won't lose a minute by taking a little rest. An' if we find +the Injun we'll string him up and save you the trouble." + +DeWitt spoke for the first time. + +"If you find the Indian," he said succinctly, "he's mine!" + +There was a moment's silence in the crowd. These men were familiar +with elemental passion. DeWitt's feeling was perfectly correct in +their eyes. The pause came as each pictured himself in DeWitt's place +with the image of the delicate Eastern girl suffering who knew what +torments constantly before him. + +"If Mr. Kelly can arrange for that," said Jack, "I guess it will about +save our lives. I'd like a chance to write a letter to my wife." + +"You ought to go back to the ditch, Jack," said DeWitt, "Porter and I +will manage somehow." + +Jack gave DeWitt a strange look. + +"Rhoda's a lifelong friend of mine. She was stolen from my home by my +friend whom I told her she could trust. Katherine and the foreman can +run the ranch." + +By the time that the four had washed themselves, Kelly had his men +dotted over the surrounding desert. For the first time in weeks, the +searchers sat down at a table. DeWitt, Porter and Newman were in +astonishing contrast to the three who had dined at the Newman ranch the +night of Cartwell's introduction to Porter. Their khaki clothes had +gradually been replaced by nondescript garments picked up at various +ranches. DeWitt and Porter boasted of corduroy trousers, while Jack +wore overalls. On the other hand, Jack wore a good blue flannel shirt, +while the other two displayed only faded gingham garments that might +have answered to almost any name. All of them were a deep mahogany +color, with chapped, split lips and bleached hair, while DeWitt's eyes +were badly inflamed from sun-glare and sand-storm. + +They ate silently. Dick Kelly, sitting at the head of the table, plied +them with food and asked few questions. DeWitt's shaking hands told +him that questions were torture to the poor fellow. After the meal +Kelly led them to bed at once, and they slept without stirring until +four o'clock in the morning, when the Chinaman called them. Breakfast +was steaming on the table. + +"Now," said Kelly, as his guests ate, "the boys didn't get a smell for +ye, but we've a suggestion. Have you been through the Pueblo country +yet?" + +"No," said Porter. + +"Well," the host went on, "Chira is the only place round here except my +ranch where he could get a new outfit. He's part Pueblo, you know, +too. I'd start for there if I was you." + +Carlos entered to hear this suggestion. + +"I've got a friend at Chira," he said, "who might help us. He's a +half-breed." + +The tired men took eagerly to this forlorn hope. With all the +population of the ranch, including the cook, gathered to wish them +Godspeed, the four started off before the sun had more than tinted the +east. Kelly had offered them anything on the ranch, from himself, his +cook and his cowboys, to the choice of his horses. His guests left as +much heartened by his cheerfulness and good will as they were by the +actual physical comforts he had given them. + +The trail to Chira was long and hard. They reached the little town at +dusk and Carlos set out at once in search of his friend, Philip. He +found him easily. He was half Mexican, half Pueblo. He and Carlos +chatted briskly in hybrid Spanish while the Americans watched the +horses wade in the little river. Visitors were so common in Chira that +the newcomers attracted little or no attention. + +Carlos finally turned from his friend. + +"Philip does not know anything about it. He says for us to come to his +house while he finds out anything. His wife is a good cook." + +The thought of a hot meal was pleasant to the Americans. They followed +gladly to Philip's adobe rooms. Here the half-breed left them to his +wife and disappeared. He was gone perhaps an hour when he returned +with a bit of cloth in his hand, which he handed to Carlos with a few +rapid sentences. Carlos gave the scrap of cloth to DeWitt, who looked +at it eagerly then gave a cry of joy. It was Rhoda's handkerchief. + +"He found a little girl washing her doll with it at the river," said +Carlos. "She said she found it blowing along the street this morning." + +"Come on!" cried Jack, making for the door. + +"Come on where?" said Billy. "If they are in the village, you don't +want to get away very far. And if they ain't, which way are you going?" + +"Ask Philip where to go, Carlos," said DeWitt. + +He held the little moist handkerchief in his hand tightly while his +heart beat heavily. Once more hope was soaring high. + +Philip thought deeply, then he and Carlos talked rapidly together. + +"Philip says," reported Carlos, "that you must go out and watch along +the river front so that if they have not gone you can catch them if +they try. He and I will go visit every family as if I wanted to buy an +outfit." + +Darkness had settled on the little town when the three Americans took +up their vigil opposite the open face of the Pueblo along the river. +All that night they stood on guard but not a human being crossed their +line of patrol. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +AN INTERLUDE + +Late in the afternoon, Rhoda woke. Kut-le stood beside her. His +expression was half eager, half tender. + +"How do you feel now?" he asked. + +"Quite well," answered Rhoda. "Will you call Marie? I want to dress." + +"You must rest in bed today," replied the Indian. "Tomorrow will be +soon enough for you to get up." + +Rhoda looked at the young man with irritation. + +"Can't you learn that I am not a squaw? That it maddens me to be +ordered about? That every time you do you alienate me more, if +possible?" + +"You do foolish stunts," said Kut-le calmly, "and I have to put you +right." + +Rhoda moaned. + +"Oh, how long, how long must I endure this! How could they be so +stupid as to let you slip through their fingers so!" + +Kut-le's mouth became a narrow seam. + +"As soon as I can get you into the Sierra Madre, I shall marry you. +You are practically a well woman now. But I am not going to hurry +overmuch. You are going to love me first and you are going to love +this life first. Then we will go to Paris until the storm has passed." + +Rhoda did not seem to hear him. She tossed her arms restlessly. + +"Please send Marie to me," she said finally. "You will permit me to +eat something perhaps?" + +Kut-le left the room at once. In a short time he returned with Marie, +who bore a steaming bowl which he himself flanked with a dish of +luscious melon. The woman propped Rhoda adroitly to a sitting position +and Kut-le gravely balanced the bowl against the girl's knees. The +stew which the bowl contained was delicious, and Rhoda ate it to the +last drop. She ate in silence, while Kut-le watched her with +unspeakable longing in his eyes. The room was almost dark when the +simple meal was finished. Marie brightened the fire and smoothed +Rhoda's blankets. + +"Kut-le go now," said the Pueblo woman. "You rest. In morning, Marie +bring white squaw some clothes." + +Rhoda was glad to pillow her head on her arm but it was long before she +slept. She tried to piece together her faint and distorted +recollection of the occurrences since the morning when the mesa had +risen through the dawn. But her only clear picture was of John +DeWitt's wild face as she disappeared into the fissure. She recalled +its look of agony and sobbed a little to herself as she realized what +torture he and the Newmans must have endured since her disappearance. +And yet she was very hopeful. If her friends could come as close to +her as they did before the mesa, they must be learning Kut-le's +methods. Surely the next time luck would not play so well for the +Indian. + +Rhoda woke in the morning to the sound of song. Marie knelt on the +ground before a sloping slab of stone and patiently kneeded corn with a +smaller stone. Her song, a quaint repetition of short mellow syllables +pleased Rhoda's sensitive ear and she lay listening. When Marie saw +Rhoda's wide eyes she came to the girl's side. + +"You feel good now?" she queried. + +"Yes, much better. I want to get up." + +The Indian woman nodded. + +"Marie clean white squaw's clothes. White squaw wear Marie's. Now +Marie help you wash." + +Rhoda smiled. + +"You are not an Apache if you want me to bathe!" + +Marie answered indignantly. + +"Marie is Pueblo squaw!" + +The clothes that Marie brought, Rhoda thought very attractive. There +was a soft wool underdress of creamiest tint. Over this Marie pulled, +fastening it at one shoulder, a gay, many-colored overdress which, like +the one she herself wore, reached to the knees. Rhoda pulled on her +own high laced boots which had been neatly mended. Then the two turned +their attention to the neglected braid of hair. + +When it was loosened and hung in tangled masses nearly to Rhoda's +knees, Marie's delight in its loveliness knew no expression. She +fetched a queer battered old comb which she washed and then proceeded +with true feminine rapture to comb the wonderful waving locks. In the +midst of this Kut-le entered. He gazed on Rhoda's new disguise with +delight. Indeed her delicate face, above the many-hued garment, was +like a harebell growing in a gaudy nasturtium bed. + +"We can only let you on the roof," said Kut-le, who was carrying +Rhoda's sombrero. + +Rhoda made no reply but when Marie had plaited her hair in a rippling +braid she followed Kut-le up the short ladder. Her sense of +cleanliness after the weeks of disorder was delightful. As she stepped +on the flat-topped roof and the sweet clear air filled her lungs she +felt as if reborn. With Navajo blankets, Kut-le had contrived an +awning that not only made a bit of shade but precluded view from below. +The rich tints of the blankets were startlingly picturesque against the +yellow gray of the adobe. Rhoda, dropped luxuriantly to the heap of +blankets and turned her face toward the mountain, many-colored and bare +toward the base, deep-cloaked with pinon, oak and Juniper on the +uplands. From its base flowed the little river, gurgling over its +shallow bed of stone and rich with green along its flat banks. Close +beside the river was the Pueblo village, the many-terraced buildings, +on one of the roofs of which Rhoda sat. + +Kut-le, stretched on the roof near by, smoked cigarette after cigarette +as he watched the girl's quiet face, but he did not speak. For three +or four hours the two sat thus in silence. Just as the sun sank behind +the mountain, a bell clanged and then fell to tolling softly. Then +Kut-le broke his silence. + +"That's the bell of the old mission. Some one has been buried, I +guess. We can look. There are no tourists now." + +There was a sound of wailing: a deep mournful sound that caught Rhoda's +heart to her throat and blanched her face. It was the sound of the +grief of primitive man, the cry of the forlorn and broken-hearted, +uncloaked by convention. It touched a primitive chord of response in +Rhoda that set her to trembling. Surely, when the world was young she +too had wept so. Surely she too had voiced a poignant, unbearable loss +in just such a wild outpouring of grief! + +They moved to the edge of the terrace and looked below into the street. +Down the rocky way a line of Indians was bearing hand-mills and jars +and armloads of ornaments. + +"They will take those to the 'killing place' and break them that the +dead owner may have them afterward," explained Kut-le softly. "It +always makes me think of a verse in the Bible. I can't recall the +words exactly though." + +Rhoda glanced up into the dark face with a look of appreciation. + +"'And the grinders shall cease because they are few!'" she said, "'and +those that look out of the windows be darkened. And the doors shall be +shut in the street when the sound of the grinding is low, because man +goeth to his long home and mourners go about the street.'" + +"And there is something else," murmured Kut-le, "about 'the silver +cord.'" + +"'Or ever the silver cord be loosed or the golden bowl be broken or the +pitcher be broken at the fountain or the wheel broken at the cistern. +Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was and the spirit to God +who gave it.'" + +They stood in silence again. The wailing died into the distance. The +sun touched to molten gold the heavy shadows of the mountain arroyos. +Rhoda was deeply moved by the scene below her. She felt as if she had +been thrust back through the ages to look upon the sorrow of some +little Judean town. The little rocky street, the vivid robes, the +weird, dying wail, the broken ornaments and utensils that some folded +tired hands would use no more, and, above all, the simple unquestioning +faith, roused in her a sudden longing for a life that she never had +known. For a long time she stood in thought. As darkness fell she +roused herself. + +"Let me go back to my room," she said. + +As they turned, neither noticed that Rhoda's little handkerchief, which +she had carried through all her experiences, fluttered from her sleeve +to the street. + +Again it was long before Rhoda slept. Through her window there floated +the sound of song, the evening singing of Indian lads in the village +street. There was a vibrant quality in their voices that Rhoda could +liken only to the music of stringed instruments. There was neither the +mellow smoothness of the negro voice nor the flute-like sweetness of +the white, yet the voices compassed all the mystical appealing quality +of violin notes. + +The music woke in Rhoda a longing for she knew not what. It seemed to +her as if she were peering past a misty veil into the childhood of the +world to whose simple beauty and delights civilization had made her +alien. The vibrating voices chanted slower and slower. Rhoda stirred +uneasily. To be free again as these voices were free! Not to long for +the civilization she had left but for open skies and trails! To be +free again! + +As the voices melted into silence, a guitar was touched softly under +Rhoda's window and Kut-le's voice rose in _La Golondrina_: + + "Whither so swiftly flies the timid swallow? + What distant bourne seeks her untiring wing? + To reach her nest what needle does she follow + When darkness wraps the poor wee storm-tossed thing?" + +Rhoda stirred restlessly and threw her arms above her head. + + "To build her nest near to my couch I'll call her! + Why go so far dark and strange skies to seek? + Safe would she be, no evil should befall her, + For I'm an exile sad, too sad to weep!" + +Mist-like floated across Rhoda's mind a memory of the trail with voice +of mating bird at dawn, with stars and the night wind and the open way. +And going before, always Kut-le--Kut-le of the unfathomable eyes, of +the merry smile, of the gentle touch. The music merged itself into +Rhoda's dreams. + +She spent the following day on the roof. Curled on her Navajo she +watched the changing tones on the mountains and listened to the soft +voices of the Pueblo women in the street below. Naked brown babies +climbed up and down the ladders and paddled in the shallow river Indian +women with scarlet shawls across their shoulders filled their ollas at +the river and stood gossiping, the brimming ollas on their heads. In +the early morning the men had trudged to the alfalfa and melon fields +and returned at sundown to be greeted joyfully by the women and +children. + +Kut-le spent the day at Rhoda's side. They talked but little, though +Rhoda had definitely abandoned her rule of silence toward the Indian. +Her mind during most of the day was absorbed in wondering why she so +enjoyed watching the life in this Indian town and why she was not more +impatient to be gone. + +As the sun dropped behind the mountain Marie appeared on the roof, her +black eyes very bright. + +"Half-breed Philip find white squaw's handkerchief. Give to white men, +maybe! Marie see Philip get handkerchief from little girl." + +Kut-le gave Rhoda an inscrutable look, but she did not tell him that +she shared his surprise. + +"Well," said Kut-le calmly, "maybe we had better mosey along." + +They descended to find Marie hastily doing up a bundle of bread and +fruit. While Kut-le went for blankets Rhoda, at Marie's request, +donned her old clothing of the trail. She had been wearing the squaw's +holiday outfit. Very shortly, with a hasty farewell to Marie, they +were in the dusky street. "Shall I gag you," asked Kut-le, "or will +you give me your word of honor to give neither sign nor sound until we +get to the mountain, and to keep your face covered with your Navajo?" + +Rhoda sighed. + +"Very well, I promise," she said. + +In a very short time they had reached the end of the little street and +were climbing an arroyo up into the mountain. When they reached the +pinons Kut-le gave the coyote call. It thrilled Rhoda with the misery +of the night of her capture. Almost immediately there was an answering +call and close in the shadow of the pinon they found Alchise and the +two squaws. Molly ran to Rhoda with a squeal of joy and patted the +girl's hand but Alchise and Cesca gave no heed to her greeting. + +The ponies were ready and Rhoda swung herself to her saddle, with a +thrill at the touch of the muscular little horse. And once more she +rode after Kut-le with the mystery of the night trail before her. + +The sound of water falling, the cheep of wakening birds, the subtle +odor of moisture-drenched soil roused Rhoda from her half sleep on the +horse's back at the end of the night's journey. The trail had not been +hard, through an endless pine forest for the most part. Kut-le drew +rein beside a little waterfall deep in the mountain fastness. Rhoda +saw a chaos of rock masses huge and distorted, as if an inconceivably +cruel and gigantic hand had juggled with weights seemingly immovable; +about these the loveliness of vine and shrub; above them the towering +junipers dwarfed by the rocks they shaded; and falling softly over the +harsh brown rifts of rock, the liquid green and white of a mountain +brook which, as it reached the level, rushed away in a roar of foam. + +Rhoda's horse drank thirstily and she stood beside him watching the +mystical gray of the dawn lift to the riotous rose of the sunrise. She +wondered at the quick throb of her pulse. It was very different from +its wonted soft beat. Then she threw herself on her blanket to sleep. + +When Rhoda woke, late in the day, Kut-le had spread Marie's cakes and +fruit on leaves which he had washed in the brook. + +"They are quite clean, I think," he said a little anxiously. "At least +the squaws haven't touched them." + +Rhoda and Kut-le sat on a rock and ate hungrily. When she had finished +Rhoda clasped her hands about her knees. She looked singularly boyish, +with her sombrero pushed back from her face and short locks of damp +hair curling from beneath the crown. + +"Isn't it queer," she said, "that you elude Jack and John DeWitt so +easily?" + +"The trouble is," said Kut-le, "that you don't appreciate the prowess +of your captors." + +"Humph!" sniffed Rhoda. + +"Listen!" cried Kut-le with sudden enthusiasm. "Once in my boyhood +Geronima and about twenty warriors, with twice as many squaws and +children, fled to the mountains. They never drew rein until they were +one hundred and twenty miles from the reservation. Then for six months +they were pursued by two thousand American soldiers and they never lost +a man!" + +"How many whites were killed?" asked Rhoda. + +"About a hundred!" + +"I don't understand yet," Rhoda shook her head, "how savages could +outwit whites for so long a time." + +"But it's not a contest of brains. Whites must travel like whites, +with food and rests. The Apache travels like the coyote, living off +the country. Your ancestors have been training your brain for a +thousand years. Mine have spent centuries of days, twenty-four hours a +day, training the body to endure hardships. You have had a glimpse of +what the hardships of this country might mean to a white!" + +As Kut-le talked, Rhoda sat with her eyes fastened on the rough face of +a distant rock. As she watched she saw a thick, leafy bush move up to +the rock. Rhoda caught her breath, glanced at the unconscious Kut-le, +then back at the bush. It moved slowly back among the trees and after +a moment Rhoda saw the undergrowth far beyond move as with a passing +breeze. She glanced at the nodding Alchise and the squaws, then smiled +and turned to Kut-le. + +"Go on with your boasting, Kut-le. It's your one weakness, I think." + +Kut-le grinned. + +"Well now, honestly, what do you think that a lot of Caucasians can do +with an enemy whose existence has always been a fist to fist fight with +nature at her cruelest? We have fought with our bare hands and we have +won," he continued, half to himself. "No white man or any number of +whites can capture me on my own ground!" + +"Boaster!" laughed Rhoda. + +Just beyond the falls an aspen quivered. John DeWitt stepped into +view. Haggard and wild-eyed, he stared at Rhoda. She raised her +finger to her lips, but too late. Kut-le too looked up, and raised his +gun. Rhoda hurled herself toward him and struck up the barrel. Kut-le +dropped the gun and caught Rhoda in his arms. + +"The woods are full of them!" he grunted. With one hand across Rhoda's +mouth, he ran around the falls and dropped six feet to a narrow back +trail. + +"My own ground!" Rhoda heard him chuckle. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE BEAUTY OF THE WORLD + +For many hurrying minutes, Rhoda saw only the passing tree branches +black against the evening sky as she lay across Kut-le's breast. The +pursuers had made no sound nor had Kut-le broken a single twig. The +entire incident might have been a pantomime, with every actor +tragically intent. + +Having long learned the futility of struggling, Rhoda lay quietly +enough, her ears keen to catch the sound of pursuit. Kut-le did not +remove his hand from her mouth. But as he dropped rapidly and +skilfully down the mountainside he whispered: + +"My own ground, you see! It will take them a good while in the dusk to +find that back trail. Only a few Indians know it." + +But Rhoda's heart was beating high. Let Kut-le boast as he would, she +was sure that Jack and John DeWitt were learning to follow the trail. +The most vivid picture in her mind was of the utter weariness of John's +face. In the past weeks Rhoda had learned how fearful had been the +hardships that would bring such weariness to a human face. Tears came +to her eyes. No one so weak, so useless as herself, she felt, could be +worth such travail. + +Silently they moved through the dusk. Rhoda knew that the other +Indians must be close behind them, yet no sound betrayed their +presence. After a half-hour or so she struggled to be set down. But +Kut-le only tightened his hold and it was fully two hours later that he +set her on her feet. + +"Don't move," he said. "We are on a canon edge." + +Rhoda swung her blanket to her shoulders, for the night was stinging +sharp. She was not afraid. She had grown so accustomed to the night +trail that she moved unhesitatingly along black rims that had at first +paralyzed her with fear. + +"Now," said Kut-le, "I'm not going to travel on foot. The only horses +within easy distance are some that a bunch of Navajos have in the canon +below here. So we will go down and get them. We will go together +because I can't risk coming back for you. We will have to hike +_pronto_ after we get 'em. Just remember that you are contaminated by +the company you are keeping and that if you make any noise, the Navajos +will shoot you up, with the rest of us! Keep right behind me." + +The little group moved carefully down the canon trail. In a short time +they reached a growth of trees. They stole through these, the only +sound Rhoda's panting breaths. Suddenly Kut-le stopped. + +"Wait here!" he breathed in Rhoda's ear, and he and Alchise disappeared. + +A hand was laid on her arm and Rhoda knew that Molly and Cesca were +guarding her. Almost immediately the soft thud of hoofs was upon them. +Kut-le seized Rhoda and tossed her to a pony's back. + +"It was dead easy!" he whispered. "They were all asleep! I even took +a saddle for you! Now hike!" + +Rhoda gripped her pony with her knees as the little fellow cantered +unerringly through the darkness after Kut-le. She felt a sudden pride +and exultation in the security she had developed in the saddle during +the travail of her night rides. She knew that no man of her +acquaintance could ride a horse as she could now. And with the +exultation she was trembling with excitement. She knew that none of +them could expect mercy if the Navajos discovered their loss in time to +take up the chase. All the eagerness of the gambler who stakes his +life on a throw of the dice; all the wild thrill of the chase; all the +trembling of the panting, woodland things that hunt and are hunted, +were Rhoda's as the night wind rushed past her face. The apathy of +illness was gone. Tonight she was as wild a thing as the night's birds +that brushed across their trail on sweeping wing. + +When they made camp at dawn Rhoda tumbled into her blanket and was +asleep before Alchise finished covering their trail. When she woke she +found that they were camped in a strange eerie. They were high up on a +mountain on a shelf that gave back into a shallow cave. In front, +facing the desert, was a heap of rock that formed a natural rampart. A +tiny spring bubbled from the cave floor. Here the little party would +seem as secure in their dizzy seclusion as eagles of the Andes. + +It was barely noon and the mountain air was sweet and exhilarating. +Kut-le sat against the rampart, smoking a cigarette, while Molly and +Cesca worked over the fire. Rhoda lunched on the tortillas to which +Molly had clung through all the vicissitudes of flight. + +"Where are the horses?" she asked Kut-le. + +"Oh, Alchise took them back. We must stay here a while till your mob +of friends disperses. I couldn't feed them and I wanted to pacify the +Navajos and get some supplies from them. Alchise will fix it up with +them." + +And here on this dizzy brink of the desert Kut-le did pause as if for a +long, long holiday. The wisdom of the proceeding did not trouble him +at all. The call of the desert was an allurement to which he yielded +unresistingly, trusting to elude capture through his skill and +unfailing good fortune. + +To Rhoda the pause was welcome. She still had faith that the longer +they camped in one spot the surer would be the pursuers to stumble upon +them. Kut-le began to devote himself entirely to Rhoda's amusement. +He knew all the plant and animal life of the desert, not only as an +Indian but as a college man who had loved biology. By degrees Rhoda's +good brain began to respond to his vivid interest and the girl in her +stay on the mountain shelf learned the desert as has been given to few +whites to learn it. Besides what she learned from the men Rhoda became +expert in camp work under Molly's patient teaching. She could kindle +the tiny, smokeless fire. She could concoct appetizing messes from the +crude food. She could detect good water from bad and could find forage +for horses. The crowning pride of her achievements was learning to +weave the dish basketry. + +They had lived in the mountain niche some three weeks when Alchise and +Kut-le left the camp one afternoon, Alchise on a turkey hunt, Kut-le on +one of his mysterious trips for supplies. Alchise returned at dusk +with a beautiful bird which Rhoda and Molly roasted with enthusiasm. +But Kut-le did not appear at supper time as he had promised. When the +meal was almost spoiled from waiting, Rhoda and the Indians ate. As +the evening wore on, Alchise grew uneasy, but he dared not disobey +Kut-le's orders and leave the camp unguarded at night. + +Rhoda speculated, torn between hope and fear. Perhaps the searchers +had captured Kut-le at last. Perhaps he had given up hope of winning +her love and had gone for good. Perhaps, somewhere or other, he was +lying badly hurt! The little group sat up much later than usual, Cesca +silently smoking her endless cigarettes, Alchise and Molly talking now +in Apache, now in English. Rhoda was convinced that they were puzzled +and worried. + +Even after she had lain down on her blankets Rhoda could not sleep. +With Kut-le gone her sense of the camp's security was gone. She rose +finally and sat beside Alchise who, rifle in hand, guarded the ledge. +There was no moon but the stars were very large and near. Rhoda was +growing to know the stars. They were remote in the East; in the desert +they become a part of one's existence. The sense of stupendous +distance was greater at night than in the daytime. The infinite +heavens, stretching depth beyond depth, the faint far spaces of the +desert, were as if one looked on the Great Mystery itself. + +When dawn came, Alchise wakened Cesca, put the rifle into her hands, +and hurried back up over the mountain. The purple shadows had +lightened to gray when Rhoda saw Kut-le staggering up the trail from +the desert. Rhoda gave a little cry and ran down to meet him. + +"Kut-le! What happened to you? We were so worried!" + +There was a bloody rag tied just below the young Indian's knee. He +paused, supporting himself against a rock. Across his eyes, drawn and +haggard with pain, flashed a look of joy that Rhoda, eying the bandage, +did not see. + +"I was late starting back," he said briefly. "In the darkness a bit of +the trail gave way, dropped me into a canon and laid my leg open. I +was unconscious a long time and lost a lot of blood, so it has taken me +the rest of the night to get here. Would you mind getting Alchise to +help me up the trail?" + +"Alchise has gone to look for you. Lean on me," said Rhoda simply. + +Despite his weakness, the dark blood flushed the young man's face, +while Rhoda's utter unconsciousness of her changed manner brought a +smile to his set lips. Not if the torture of dragging himself up the +trail were to be ten times greater would he now have availed himself of +help from Alchise. + +"If you will let me put my arm across your shoulder we can make it," he +said as quietly as though his heart were not leaping. + +Rhoda's squaring of her slender shoulders was distractingly boyish. +Utterly heedless of the pain which each step cost him, Kut-le made his +way slowly to the ledge, ordering back the flustered squaws and leaning +on Rhoda only enough to feel the tender girlish shoulders beneath the +worn blue blouse. + +In the camp, Rhoda assumed command while Kut-le lay on his blanket +watching her in silent content. She put one of Alchise's two calico +shirts on to boil over the breakfast fire. She washed out the nasty +cut and bandaged it with strips from the sterilized shirt. She brought +Kut-le's breakfast and her own to his blanket side and coaxed the young +man to eat, he assuming great indifference merely for the happiness of +being urged. Rhoda was so energetic and efficient that the sun was +just climbing from behind the far peaks when Kut-le finished his bacon +and coffee. The girl stood looking at him, hands on hips, head on one +side, with that look in her eyes of superiority, maternity and +complacent tenderness which a woman can assume only when she has +ministered to the needs of a helpless masculine thing. + +"There!" she said with a sigh of satisfaction. + +"Rhoda," said Kut-le, hoping that the heavy thumping of his heart did +not shake his whole broad chest, "how long ago was it that you were a +helpless, dying little girl without strength to cut up your own food? +How long since you have served any one but yourself?" + +Rhoda drew a quick breath. She stood staring from the Indian to the +desert, to her slender body, and back again. She held out her hands +and looked at them. They were scratched and brown and did not tremble. +Then she looked at the young Indian and he never was to forget the +light in her eyes. + +"Kut-le!" she cried. "Kut-le! I am well again! I am well again!" + +She paced back and forth along the ledge. Through the creamy tan her +cheeks flushed richly crimson. Finally she stopped before the Apache. + +"You have outraged all my civilized instincts," she said slowly, "yet +you have saved my life and given me health. Whatever comes, Kut-le, I +never shall forget that!" + +"I have changed more than that," said Kut-le quietly. "Where is your +old hatred of the desert?" + +Rhoda turned to look. At the edge of the distant ranges showed a rim +of red. Crimson spokes of fire flashed to the zenith. The sky grew +brighter, more translucent, the ranges melted into molten gold. The +sun, hot and scarlet, rolled into view. Into Rhoda's heart flooded a +sense of infinite splendor, infinite beauty, infinite peace. + +"Why!" she gasped to Kut-le, "it is beautiful! It's not terrible! +It's unadorned beauty!" + +The Indian nodded but did not speak. Rhoda never was to forget that +day. Long years after she was to catch the afterglow of that day of +her rebirth. Suddenly she realized that never could a human have found +health in a setting more marvelous. The realization was almost too +much. Kut-le, with sympathy for which she was grateful, did not talk +to her much. Once, however, as she brought him a drink and +mechanically smoothed his blanket he said softly: + +"You who have been served and demanded service all your life, why do +you do this?" + +Rhoda answered slowly. + +"I'm not serving you. I'm trying to pay up some of the debt of my +life." + +Kut-le was about in a day or so and by the end of the week he was quite +himself. He resumed the daily expeditions with Rhoda and Alchise which +provided text for the girl's desert learning. Rhoda's old despondency, +her old agony of prayer for immediate rescue had given way to a strange +conflict of desires. She was eager for rescue, was conscious of a +constant aching desire for her own people, and yet the old sense of +outrage, of grief, of hopelessness was gone. + +Of a sudden she found herself pausing, thrusting back the problems that +confronted her while she drank to the full this strange mad joy of life +which she felt must leave her when she left the desert. She knew only +that the fear of death was gone. That hours of fever and pain were no +more. That her mind had found its old poise but with an utterly new +view-point of life. Her blood ran red. Her lungs breathed deep. Her +eyes saw distances too big for their conception, beauties so deep that +her spirit had to expand to absorb them. + +The silent nights of stars, the laborious crests that tossed sudden and +unspeakable views before the eyes, the eternal canons that led beneath +ranges of surpassing majesty, roused in her a passion of delight that +could find expression only in her growing physical prowess. She lived +and ate like a splendid boy. Day after day she scaled the ranges with +Kut-le and Alchise; tenderly reared creature of an ultracivilization as +she was, she learned the intricate lore of the aborigines, learned what +students of the dying people would give their hearts to know. + +Kut-le wakened Rhoda at dawn one day. She prepared the breakfast of +coffee, bacon and tortilla. Alchise shared this eagerly with Rhoda and +Kut-le, though already he had eaten with the squaws. The day was still +gray when the three set out on a long day's trip in search of game. +The way this morning led up a canon deep and quiet, with the night +shadows still dark and cool within it. The air was that of a northern +day of June. + +Rhoda tramped bravely, up and up, from cactus to bear grass, from bear +grass to stunted cedar, from cedar to pines that at last rose +triumphant at the crest of a great ridge. Here Rhoda and Kut-le flung +themselves to the ground to rest while Alchise prowled about +restlessly. Across a hundred miles of desert rose faint snow-capped +peaks. + +Kut-le watched Rhoda's rapt face for a time. Then, as if unable to +keep back the words, he said softly: + +"Rhoda! Stay here, always! Marry me and stay here always!" + +Rhoda looked at the beautiful pleading eyes. She stirred restlessly; +but before she could frame an answer Alchise appeared, followed by a +lean old Indian all but toothless who wore a pair of tattered overalls +and a gauze shirt. The two Indians stopped before Kut-le, and Alchise +jerked a thumb at the stranger. + +"_Sabe_ no white talk," he said. + +Kut-le passed the stranger a cigarette, which he accepted without +comment. A rapid conversation followed between the three Indians. + +"He is an Apache," explained Kut-le, finally, to Rhoda. "His name is +Injun Tom. He says that Newman and Porter hired him to trail us but he +is tired of the job. They foolishly advanced him five dollars. He +says they are camping in the valley right below here." + +Rhoda sprang to her feet. + +"Where are you going?" smiled Kut-le. "He says they are going to shoot +me on sight!" + +Under her tan Rhoda's face whitened. + +"Would they shoot you, Kut-le, even if I told them not to?" + +At the sight of the paling face the young man murmured, "You dear!" +under his breath. Then aloud, "Not if I were your husband." + +"How can I marry a savage?" cried Rhoda. + +Kut-le put his hand under the cleft chin and lifted the sweet face till +it looked directly into his. His gaze was very deep and clear. + +"Am I nothing but a naked savage, Rhoda?" he said. "Am I?" + +Rhoda's eyes did not leave his. + +"No!" she said softly, under her breath. + +Kut-le's eyes deepened. He turned and picked up his rifle. + +"Bring your friend back to dinner, Alchise," he said. "Our little +holiday must end right here." + +They reached the camp at noon and while the squaws made ready for +breaking camp, Rhoda sat deep in thought. Before her were the burning +sky and desert, with hawk and buzzard circling in the clear blue. +Where had the old hatred of Kut-le gone? Whence came this new trust +and understanding, this thrill at his touch? Kut-le, who had been +watching her adoringly, rose and came to her side. The rampart hid the +two from the others. Kut-le took one of Rhoda's hands in his firm +fingers and laid his lips against her palm. Rhoda flushed and drew her +hand away. But Kut-le again put his hand beneath her cleft chin and +lifted her face to his. + +Just as the brown face all but touched hers a voice sounded from behind +the rampart: + +"Hello, you! Where's Kut-le?" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +AN ESCAPE + +Rhoda sprang away from Kut-le and they both ran to the other side of +the rampart. Billy Porter, worn and tattered but still looking very +well able to hold his own, stood staring into the cave where the squaws +eyed him open-mouthed and Alchise, his hand on his rifle, scowled at +him aggressively. Porter's eye fell on Injun Tom. + +"U-huh! You pison Piute, you! I just nacherally snagged your little +game, didn't I?" + +"Billy!" cried Rhoda. "O Billy Porter!" + +Porter jumped as if at a blow. Rhoda stood against the rock in her +boyish clothes, her beautiful braid sweeping her shoulder, her face +vivid. + +"My God! Miss Rhoda!" cried Billy hoarsely, as he ran toward her with +outstretched hands. "Why, you are well! What's happened to you!" + +Here Kut-le stepped between the two. + +"Hello, Mr. Porter," he said. + +Billy stepped back and a look of loathing and anger took the place of +the joy that had been in his eyes before. + +"You Apache devil!" he growled. "You ain't as smart as you thought you +were!" + +Rhoda ran forward and would have taken Porter's hand but Kut-le +restrained her with his hand on her shoulder. + +"Where did you come from, Billy?" cried Rhoda. "Where are the others?" + +Billy's face cleared a little at the sound of the girl's voice. + +"They are right handy, Miss Rhoda." + +"I'll give you a few details, Rhoda," said Kut-le coolly. "You see he +is without water and his mouth is black with thirst. He started to +trail Injun Tom but got lost and stumbled on us." + +Rhoda gave a little cry of pity and running into the cave she brought +Billy a brimming cup of water. + +"Is that true, Billy?" she asked. "Are the others near here?" + +Billy nodded then drained the cup and held it out for more. + +"They are just around the corner!" with a glance at Kut-le, who smiled +skeptically. + +"Oh!" exclaimed Rhoda. "What terrible trouble I have made you all!" + +"You made!" said Porter. "Well that's good! Still, that Apache devil +doesn't seem to have harmed you. Just the same, he'll get his! If I +shot him now, the other Injuns would get me and God knows what would +happen to you!" + +"Whom do you call an Apache devil?" asked Kut-le. Rhoda never had seen +him show such evident anger. + +"You, by Judas!" replied Porter, looking into the young Indian's face. + +For a strained moment the two eyed each other, hatred glaring at +hatred, until Rhoda put a hand on Kut-le's arm. His face cleared at +once. + +"So that's my reputation now, is it?" he said lightly. + +"_That's_ your reputation!" sneered Billy. "Do you think that's _all_? +Why, don't you realize that you can't live in your own country again? +Don't you know that the whites will hunt you out like you was a rat? +Don't you realize that the folks that believed in you and was fond of +you has had to give up their faith in you? Don't you understand that +you've lost all your white friends? But I suppose that don't mean +anything to an Injun!" + +A look of sadness passed over Kut-le's face. + +"Porter," he said very gently, "I counted on all of that before I did +this thing. I thought that the sacrifice was worth while, and I still +think so. I'm sorry, for your sake, that you stumbled on us here. We +are going to start on the trail shortly and I must send you out to be +lost again. I'll let Alchise help you in the job. As you say, I have +sacrificed everything else in life; I can't afford to let anything +spoil this now. You can rest for an hour. Eat and drink and fill your +canteen. Take a good pack of meat and tortillas. You are welcome to +it all." + +The Indian spoke with such dignity, with such tragic sincerity, that +Porter gave him a look of surprise and Rhoda felt hot tears in her +eyes. Kut-le turned to the girl. + +"You can see that I can't let you talk alone with Porter, but go ahead +and say anything you want to in my hearing. Molly, you bring the white +man some dinner and fix him some trail grub. Hurry up, now!" + +He seated himself on the rampart and lighted a cigarette. Porter sat +down meditatively, with his back against the mountain wall. He was +discomfited. Kut-le had guessed correctly as to the circumstances of +his finding the camp. He had no idea where his friends might have gone +in the twenty-four hours since he had left them. When he stumbled on +to Kut-le he had had a sudden hope that the Indian might take him +captive. The Indian's quiet reception of him nonplussed him and roused +his unwilling admiration. + +Rhoda sat down beside Porter. + +"How is John?" she asked. + +"He is pretty good. He has lasted better than I thought he would." + +"And Katherine and Jack?" Rhoda's voice trembled as she uttered the +names. It was only with the utmost difficulty that she spoke +coherently. All her nerves were on the alert for some unexpected +action on the part of either Billy or the Indians. + +"Jack's all right," said Billy. "We ain't seen Mrs. Jack since the day +after you was took, but she's all to the good, of course, except she's +been about crazy about you, like the rest of us." + +"Oh, you poor, poor people!" moaned Rhoda. + +Porter essayed a smile with his cracked lips. + +"But, say, you do look elegant, Miss Rhoda. You ain't the same girl!" + +Rhoda blushed through her tan. + +"I forgot these," she said; "I've worn them so long." + +"It ain't the clothes," said Billy, "and it ain't altogether your fine +health. It's more--I don't know what it is! It's like the desert!" + +"That's what I tell her," said Kut-le. + +"Say," said Billy, scowling, "you've got a nerve, cutting in as if this +was a parlor conversation you had cut in on casual. Just keep out of +this, will you!" + +Rhoda flushed. + +"Well, as long as he can hear everything, it's a good deal of a farce +not to let him talk," she said. + +"Farce!" exclaimed Billy. "Say, Miss Rhoda, you ain't sticking up for +this ornery Piute, are you?" + +Rhoda looked at the calm eyes of the Indian, at the clean-cut +intelligence of his face, and she resented Porter's words. She +answered him softly but clearly. + +"Kut-le did an awful and unforgivable thing in stealing me. No one +knows that better than I do. But he has treated me with respect and he +has given me back my health. I thank him for that and--and I do +respect him!" + +Kut-le's eyes flashed with a deep light but he said nothing. Porter +stared at the girl with jaw dropped. + +"Good Lord!" he cried. "Respect him! Wouldn't that come and get you! +Do you mean that you want to stay with that Injun?" + +A slow flush covered Rhoda's tanned cheeks. Her cleft chin lifted a +little. + +"At the very first chance," she replied, "I shall escape." + +Porter sighed in great relief. + +"That's all right, Miss Rhoda," he said leniently. "Respect him all +you want to. I don't see how you can, but women is queer, if you don't +mind my saying so. I don't blame you for feeling thankful about your +health. You've stood this business better than any of us. Say, that +squaw seems to be puttin' all her time on making up my pack. Can't I +negotiate for something to eat right now? Tell her not to put pison +into it." + +Kut-le grinned. + +"Maybe Miss Tuttle will fix up something for you, so you can eat +without worrying." + +"Well, she won't, you know!" growled Porter. "_Her_ wait on me! She +ain't no squaw!" + +"Oh, but," cried Rhoda, "you don't know how proud I am of my skill! I +can run the camp just as well as the squaws." Then, as Porter scowled +at Kut-le, "He didn't make me! I wanted to, so as to be able to take +care of myself when I escaped. When you and I get away from him," she +looked at the silent Indian with an expression of daring that brought a +glint of amusement to his eyes, "I'll be able to live off the trail +better than you!" + +"Gee!" exclaimed Porter admiringly. + +"Of course, in one way it's no credit to me at all," Rhoda went on, +stirring the rabbit stew she was warming up. "Kut-le--" she paused. +Of what use was it to try to explain what Kut-le had done for her! + +She toasted fresh tortillas and poured the stew over them and brought +the steaming dish to Porter. He tasted of the mess tentatively. + +"By Hen!" he exclaimed, and he set upon the stew as if half starved, +while Rhoda watched him complacently. + +Seeing him apparently thus engrossed, Kut-le turned to speak to +Alchise. Instantly Porter dropped the stew, drew a revolver and fired +two rapid shots, one catching Alchise in the leg, the other Injun Tom. +Before he could get Kut-le the young Indian was upon him. + +"Run, Rhoda, run!" yelled Porter, as he went down, under Kut-le. + +Rhoda gave one glance at Injun Tom and Alchise writhing with their +wounds, at Porter's fingers tightening at Kut-le's throat, then she +seized the canteen she had filled for Porter and started madly down the +trail. The screaming squaws gave no heed to her. + +She ran swiftly, surely, down the rocky way, watching the trail with +secondary sense, for every other was strained to catch the sounds from +above. But she heard nothing but the screams of the squaws. The trail +twisted violently near the desert floor. She sped about one last +jutting buttress, then stopped abruptly, one hand on her heaving breast. + +A man was running toward the foot of the trail. He, too, stopped +abruptly. The girl seemed a marvel of beauty to him. With the curly +hair beneath the drooping sombrero, the tanned, flushed face, the +parted scarlet lips, the throat and tiny triangle of chest disclosed by +the rough blue shirt with one button missing from the top, and the +beautiful lithe legs in the clinging buckskins, Rhoda was a wonderful +thing to come upon unexpectedly. As John DeWitt took off his hat, his +haggard face went white, his stalwart shoulders heaved. + +"O John! Dear John DeWitt!" cried Rhoda. "Turn back with me quick! I +am running away while Mr. Porter holds Kut-le!" + +DeWitt held out his shaking hands to her, unbelieving rapture growing +in his eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +ADRIFT IN THE DESERT + +Rhoda put her hands into the outstretched, shaking palms. + +"Rhoda! Sweetheart! Sweetheart!" DeWitt gasped. Then his voice +failed him. + +For an instant Rhoda leaned against his heaving chest. She felt as if +after long wandering in a dream she suddenly had stepped back into +life. But it was only for the instant that she paused. Her face was +blazing with excitement. + +"Come!" she cried. "Come!" + +"Take my arm! Or had I better carry you?" exclaimed DeWitt. + +"Huh!" sniffed Rhoda. "Just try to keep up with me, that's all!" + +DeWitt, despite the need for haste, stopped and stared at the girl, +open-mouthed. Then as he realized what superb health she showed in +every line of face and body, he cried: + +"You are well! You are well! O Rhoda, I never thought to see you this +way!" + +Rhoda squeezed his fingers joyfully. + +"I am so strong! Hurry, John! Hurry!" + +"Where are the Indians?" panted DeWitt, running along beside her. +"What were those shots?" + +"Billy Porter found our camp. He shot Alchise and Injun Tom and he and +Kut-le were wrestling as I ran." Then Rhoda hesitated. "Perhaps you +ought to go back and help Billy!" + +But John pulled her ahead. + +"Leave you until I get you to safety? Why, Billy himself would half +murder me if I thought of it! Our camp is over there, a three hours' +trip." DeWitt pointed to a distant peak. "If we swing around to the +left, the Indians won't see us!" + +Hand in hand the two settled to a swinging trot. The dreadful fear of +pursuit was on them both. It submerged their first joy of meeting, and +left them panic-stricken. For many minutes they ran without speaking. +At last, when well out into the burning heat of the desert, they could +keep up the pace no longer and dropped to a rapid walk. Still there +came no sound of pursuit. + +"Was Porter hurt?" panted John. + +"Not when I left," answered Rhoda. + +"I wonder what his plan is?" said John. "He left the camp yesterday to +trail Injun Tom. We'll go back for him as quick as I can get you to +camp." + +Rhoda looked up at DeWitt anxiously. + +"You are very tired and worn, John," she said. + +"And you!" cried the man, looking down at the girl with the swinging, +tireless stride. "What miracle has come to you?" + +"I never dreamed that there could be health like this! I--" She +stopped, with head to one side. "Do you hear anything? What do you +suppose they are doing to each other? Oh, I hope neither of them will +get killed!" + +"I hope-- They have all promised to let me deal with Kut-le!" said +DeWitt grimly, pausing to listen intently. But no sound came across +the burning sands. + +Rhoda started at DeWitt's words. Suddenly her early sense of the +appalling nature of her experience returned to her. She looked with +new eyes at DeWitt's face. It was not the same face that she had last +seen at the Newman ranch. John had the look of a man who has passed +through the fire of tragedy. She gripped his burned fingers with both +her slender hands. + +"O John!" she cried, "I wasn't worth it! I wasn't worth it! Let's get +to the camp quickly, so that you can rest! It would take a lifetime of +devotion to make up for that look in your face!" + +John's quiet manner left him. + +"It was a devilish thing for him to do!" he said fiercely. "Heaven +help him when I get him!" Then before Rhoda could speak he smiled +grimly. "This pace is fearful. If you keep it up you will have +sunstroke, Rhoda. And at that, you're standing it better than I!" + +They slowed their pace. DeWitt was breathing hard as the burning lava +dust bit into his throat. + +"I haven't minded the physical discomfort," he went on. "It's the +mental torture that's been killing me. We've pushed hot on your trail +hour after hour, day in and day out. When they made me rest, I could +only lie and listen to you sob for help until--O my love! My love!--" + +His voice broke and Rhoda laid her cheek against his arm for a moment. + +"I know! O John dear, I know!" she whispered. + +They trudged on in silence for a time, both listening for the sound of +pursuit. Then DeWitt spoke, as if he forced himself to ask for an +answer that he dreaded. + +"Rhoda, did they torture you much?" + +"No! There was no torture except that of fearful hardships. At +first--you know how weak and sick I was, John--at first I just lived in +an agony of fear and anger--sort of a nightmare of exhaustion and +frenzy. Then at Chira I began to get strong and as my health came, the +wonder of it, the--oh, I can't put it into words; Kut-le was--" Rhoda +paused, wondering at the reluctance with which she spoke the young +Indian's name. "You missed us so narrowly so many times!" + +"The Indian had the devil's own luck and we always blundered," said +DeWitt. "I have had the feeling lately that my bones would be +bleaching on this stretch of Hades before you ever were heard of. +Rhoda, if I can get you safely to New York again I'll shoot the first +man who says desert to me!" + +Rhoda became strangely silent, though she clung to John's hand and now +and again lifted it against her cheek. The yellow of the desert reeled +in heat waves about them. The deep, intensely deep blue of the sky +glowed silently down on them. Never to see them again! Never to waken +with the desert stars above her face or to make camp with the crimson +dawn blinding her vision! Never to know again the wild thrill of the +chase! Finally Rhoda gave herself a mental shake and looked up into +John's tired face. + +"How did you come to leave the camp, John?" she asked gently. + +"It's all been luck," said John. "With the exception of a little trail +wisdom that Billy or Carlos raked up once in a while it's just been +hit-or-miss luck with us. We suspected that Billy had gone on Injun +Tom's trail, so we made camp on the spot so he wouldn't lose us. I +stood guard this morning while Jack and Carlos slept and then I thought +that that was fool nonsense, as Kut-le never traveled by day. So I +started on a hunt along Billy's trail--and here we are!" + +"Are there any other people hunting for me?" + +"Lord, yes! At first they were fairly walking over each other. But +the ranchers had to go back to their work and the curious got tired. +Most of those that are left are down along the Mexican border. They +thought of course that Kut-le would get off American territory as soon +as he could. Must we keep such a pace, Rhoda girl? You will be half +dead before we can reach the camp!" + +Rhoda smiled. + +"I've followed Kut-le's tremendous pace so many miles that I doubt if I +shall ever walk like a perfect lady again!" + +"I thought that I would go off my head," DeWitt went on, dropping into +a walk, "when I saw you there at Dead Man's Mesa and you escaped into +that infernal crevice! Gee, Rhoda, I can't believe that this really is +you!" + +The sun was setting as they climbed through a wide stretch of +greasewood to the first rough rock heaps of the mountains. Then DeWitt +paused uncertainly. + +"Why, this isn't right! I never was here before!" + +Rhoda spoke cheerfully. + +"Perhaps you have the right mountain but the wrong trail!" + +"No! This is altogether wrong. I remember this peak now, with a sort +of saw edge to the top. What a chump I am! I distinctly remember +seeing this mountain from the trail this morning." + +"How did it lie?" asked Rhoda, sitting down on a convenient stone. + +"Gee, I can't remember whether to the right or left!" + +Rhoda clasped and unclasped her hands nervously. + +"I hate to stop. One can't tell what Kut-le is up to!" + +DeWitt squared his broad shoulders. + +"Don't you worry, little girl. If he does find us he'll have to take +us both! We'll just have to rest here for a moment. There's no use +starting till we have our sense of direction again." + +Rhoda raised her eyebrows. After all the fearful lessons, DeWitt had +not yet come to a full realization of the skill and resourcefulness of +Kut-le. The girl said nothing, however, but left the leadership to +DeWitt. The sun was setting, turning to clear red and pale lavender a +distant peak that then merged with the dusk, one could not tell when +nor how. Rhoda and DeWitt sat at the foot of an inhospitable crag +whose distant top, baring itself to the heavens, was a fearful climb +above them. + +Rhoda watched the sunset a little wistfully. She must impress on her +memory every one that she saw now. She felt that her days in the +desert were numbered. + +DeWitt shook his empty canteen. + +"It was mighty clever of you to bring a canteen. We've got to be +careful of the water question. Of course, I'm confident we will reach +camp this evening, but you can't be too careful of water anyhow. Lord! +Think of Jack Newman's face when we come strolling in! We ought to be +back at the ranch in five days." + +"Do you know it's going to be strange to talk with Katherine!" +exclaimed Rhoda. "She's a white woman, you know!" + +DeWitt took both of Rhoda's brown little hands in his. + +"I'm not appearing very sympathetic, sweetheart," he said. "But I'm so +crazy with joy at having you again and of finding you so well that I +don't know what I'm saying." + +"John," said Rhoda slowly, "I don't need any sympathy! I tell you that +this has been the most wonderful experience that ever came into my +life. I have suffered!" Her voice trembled and John's hold on her +hands tightened. "God only knows how I have suffered! But I have +learned things that were worth the misery!" + +DeWitt looked at her wide-eyed. + +"You're a wonder!" he exclaimed. + +Rhoda laughed softly. + +"You ought to hear the Indians' opinion of me! Do you know what I've +thought of lots of times lately? You know that place on the Hudson +where men go when they are nervous wrecks and the doctor cures them by +grilling them mentally and physically clear beyond endurance? Well, +that's the sort of cure I've had, except that I've had two doctors, the +Indian and the desert!" + +DeWitt answered slowly. + +"I don't quite see it! But I know one thing. You are about the gamest +little thoroughbred I ever heard of!" + +The moon was rising and DeWitt watched Rhoda as she sat with her hands +clasping her knee in the boyish attitude that had become a habit. + +"You are simply fascinating in those clothes, Rhoda. You are like a +beautiful slender boy in them." + +"They are very comfortable," said Rhoda, in such a sedate +matter-of-fact tone despite her blush that DeWitt chuckled. He threw +his arm across her shoulder and hugged her to him ecstatically. + +"Rhoda! Rhoda! You are the finest ever! I can't believe that this +terrible nightmare is over! And to think that instead of finding you +all but dead, you are a thousand times more fit than I am myself. +Rhoda, just think! You are going to live! To live! You will not be +my wife just for a few months, as we thought, but for years and years!" + +They stood in silence for a time, each one busy with the picture +DeWitt's words had conjured. Then DeWitt emptied the pipe he had been +smoking. + +"Yonder is our peak, by Jove! It looked just so in the moonlight last +night. I didn't recognize it by daylight. If you're rested, we'll +start now. You must be dead hungry! I know I am!" + +Refreshed and hopeful, they swung out into the wonder of the moonlit +desert. They soon settled to each other's pace and with the full moon +glowing in their faces they made for the distant peak. + +"Now," said John, "tell me the whole story!" + +So Rhoda, beginning with the moment of her abduction, told the story of +her wanderings, told it simply though omitting no detail. Nothing +could have been more dramatic than the quiet voice that now rose, now +fell with intensity of feeling. DeWitt did not interrupt her except +with a muttered exclamation now and again. + +"And the actual sickness was not the worst," Rhoda continued after +describing her experiences up to her sickness at Chira; "it was the +delirium of fear and anger. Kut-le forced me beyond the limit of my +strength. Night after night I was tied to the saddle and kept there +till I fainted. Then I was rested only enough to start again. And it +angered and frightened me so! I was so sick! I loathed them all +so--except Molly. But after Chira a change came. I got stronger than +I ever dreamed of being. And I began to understand Kut-le's methods. +He had realized that physically and mentally I was at the lowest ebb +and that only heroic measures could save me. He had the courage to +apply the measures." + +"God!" muttered John. + +Rhoda scarcely heeded him. + +"It was then that I began to see things that I could not see before and +to think thoughts that I could not have thought before. It was as if I +had climbed a mental peak that made my old highest ideals seem like +mere foothills!" + +The quiet voice led on and on, stopping at last with Porter's advent +that afternoon. Then Rhoda looked up into DeWitt's face. It was drawn +and tense. His eyes were black with feeling and his close-pressed lips +twitched. + +"Rhoda," he said at last, "I thought most of the savage had been +civilized out of me. But I tell you now that if ever I get a chance I +shall kill that Apache with my bare hands!" + +Rhoda laid her hand on DeWitt's arm. + +"Kut-le, after all, has done me only a great good, John!" + +"But think how he did it! The devil risked killing you! Think what +you and we all have suffered! God, Rhoda, think!" And DeWitt threw +his arm across his face with a sob that wrenched his shoulders. + +Inexpressibly touched, Rhoda stopped and drew John's face down to hers, +rubbing it softly with her velvet cheek. + +"There, dear, there! I can't bear to see you so! My poor tired boy! +You have all but killed yourself for me!" + +DeWitt lifted the slender little figure and held it tensely in his arms +a moment, then set her gently down. + +"A woman's magnanimity is a strange thing," he said. + +"Kut-le will suffer," said Rhoda. "He risked everything and has lost. +He has neither friends nor country now." + +"Much he cares," retorted DeWitt, "except for losing you!" + +Rhoda made no answer. She realized that it would take careful pleading +on her part to win freedom for Kut-le if ever he were caught. She +changed the subject. + +"Have you found living off the desert hard? I mean as far as food was +concerned?" + +"Food hasn't bothered us," answered John. "We've kept well supplied." + +Rhoda chuckled. + +"Then I can't tempt you to stop and have some roast mice with me?" + +"Thank you," answered DeWitt. "Try and control your yearning for them, +honey girl. We shall be at camp shortly and have some white man's +grub." + +"How long since you have eaten, John?" asked Rhoda. She had been +watching the tall fellow's difficult and slacking steps for some time. + +"Well, not since last night, to tell the truth. You see I was so +excited when I struck Porter's trail that I didn't go back to the camp. +I just hiked." + +"So you are faint with hunger," said Rhoda, "and your feet are +blistered, for you have done little tramping in the hot sand before +this. John, look at that peak! Are you sure it is the right one?" + +DeWitt stared long and perplexedly. + +"Rhoda girl," he said, "I don't believe it is, after all. I am the +blamedest tenderfoot! But don't you worry. We will find the camp. +It's right in this neighborhood." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE HEART'S OWN BITTERNESS + +"I'm not worrying," answered Rhoda stoutly, "except about you. You are +shaking with exhaustion while I am as fit as can be." + +"Oh, don't bother about me!" exclaimed John. "I'm just a little tired." + +But Rhoda was not to be put off. + +"How much did you sleep last night?" + +"Not much," admitted DeWitt. "I haven't been a heavy sleeper at times +ever since you disappeared, strange as that may seem!" Then he +grinned. It was pleasant to have Rhoda bully him. + +Yet the big fellow actually was sinking with weariness. The fearful +hardships that he had undergone had worked havoc with him. Now that +the agonizing nerve-strain was lifted he was going to pieces. He stood +wavering for a minute, then he slowly sat down in the sand. + +Rhoda stood beside him uncertainly and looked from the man to the +immovably distant mountain peak. She realized that, in stopping, the +risk of recapture was great, yet her desert experiences told her that +John must regain some of his strength before the sun caught them. She +had little faith that they would tumble upon the camp as easily as John +thought, and wanted to prepare for a day of desert heat. + +"If we were sure just where the camp lay," she said, "I would go on for +help. But as we aren't certain, I'm afraid to be separated from you, +John." + +John looked up fiercely with his haggard eyes. + +"Don't you dare to move six inches from me, Rhoda. It will kill me to +lose you now." + +"Of course I won't," said Rhoda. "I've had my lesson about losing +myself in the desert. But you must have some sleep before we go any +farther." + +Rhoda spoke with a cheerfulness she did not feel. She looked about for +a comfortable resting-place but the desert was barren. + +"There's no use trying to find a comfortable bed," she said. "You had +better lie down right where you are." + +"Honey," said John, "I've no idea of sleeping. It will be time enough +for that when we reach camp. But if you think you could stand guard +for just ten minutes I will lie flat in the sand and rest. You take my +watch and time me." + +"That's splendid!" said Rhoda, helping him to clear of rocks and cactus +a space long enough to lie in. + +"Just ten minutes," said DeWitt, and as he spoke he sank to sleep. + +Rhoda stood in the moonlight looking into the man's unconscious face. +His new-grown beard gave him a haggard look that was enhanced by the +dark circles under his eyes. That wan face touched Rhoda much more +than the healthy face of former days. The lines of weariness and pain +that never could be fully erased were all for her, she thought with a +little catch of her breath. Then with a pitying, affectionate look at +the sleeping man came a whimsical smile. Once she had thought no one +could equal John in physical vigor. Now she pictured Kut-le's panther +strength and endurance, and smiled. + +She looked at the watch. Five hours till dawn. She would let John +have the whole of that time in which to sleep. His ten minutes would +be worse than useless, while to find the camp after the moon had set +would be quite out of the question. Her own eyes were wide and +sleepless. She sat in the sand beside DeWitt until driven by the cold +to pace back and forth. John slept without stirring; the sleep of +complete exhaustion. Rhoda was not afraid, nor did she feel lonely. +The desert was hers now. There was no wind, but now and again the +cactus rustled as if unseen wings had brushed it. The dried heaps of +cholla stirred as if unseen paws had pressed them. From afar came the +demoniacal laughter of coyotes on their night hunts. But still Rhoda +was not afraid. + +At first, in the confusion of thoughts that the day's events had +crowded on her, her clearest sense was of thankfulness. Then she fell +to wondering what had happened to Porter and Kut-le. Suddenly she +caught her breath with a shiver. If Porter won there could be but one +answer as to Kut-le's fate. John's attitude of mind told that. Rhoda +twisted her hands together. + +"I will not have him killed!" she whispered. "No! No! I will not +have him killed!" + +For many minutes she paced back and forth, battling with her fears. +Then she suddenly recalled the fact that vengeance was to be saved for +John. This uncanny thought comforted her. She had little fear but +that she could manage John. + +And then in the utter silence of the desert night, staring at the +sinking moon, Rhoda asked herself why, when she should have been mad +with joy over her own rescue, she was giving all her thoughts to +Kut-le's plight! For a moment the question brought a flood of +confusion. Then, standing alone in the night beauty of the desert, the +girl acknowledged the truth that she had denied even to herself so +long. The young Indian's image returned to her endowed with all the +dignity of his remarkable physical perfection. She knew now that from +the first this physical beauty of his had had a strong appeal to her. +She knew now that all his unusual characteristics that at first had +seemed so strange to her were the ones that had drawn her to him. His +strange mental honesty, his courage, his brutal incisiveness, all had +fascinated her. All her days with him returned to her, days of +weakness, of anger, then the weeks on the ledge, and the day when she +had found the desert, and finally the day just past, to the very moment +when Billy Porter had come upon them on the ledge. + +Rhoda stood with unseeing eyes while before her inward vision passed a +magnificent panorama of the glories through which Kut-le had led her. +Chaos of mountain and desert, resplendent with color; cool, sweet depth +of canon; burning height of tortured peak; slope of pungent pinon +forest--all wrapped in the haze which is the desert's own. + +Rhoda knew the truth; knew that she loved Kut-le! She knew that she +loved him with all the passionate devotion for which her rebirth had +given her the capacity. + +With this acknowledgment, all her calm was swept away. With fingers +clasped against her breast, with wide eyes on the brooding night, she +wished that she might tell him this that had come to her. If only once +more the inscrutable tenderness of his black eyes were upon her! If +the deep imperative voice were but sounding in her ears again! If only +she could feel now the touch of his powerful arms as he carried her the +long sick miles to Chira. Trembling with longing, her gaze fell upon +the man sleeping at her feet. She drew a sudden troubled breath. Must +she renounce this new rapture of living? Must she? + +"Have I found new life in the desert only to lose it?" she whispered. +"O Kut-le! Kut-le!" + +DeWitt slept on, unmoving, and Rhoda watched him with tragedy-stricken +eyes. + +"What shall I do!" she whispered, lips quivering, shaking hands +twisting together. "Oh, what shall I do!" + +She tried to picture a future with Kut-le. She saw his tenderness, his +purposefulness, the bigness of his mind and spirit. Then with a cold +clutch at her throat came the thought of race barrier, and in a moment +Rhoda was plunged into the oldest, the most hopeless, the least +solvable of all love's problems. Minute after minute went by and the +girl, standing by the sleeping man, fought a fight that shook her +slender body and racked her soul. At last she raised her face to the +sky. + +"I want to do what is right!" she said piteously. "It doesn't matter +about me, if only I can decide what is right!" Then after, a pause, "I +will marry John! I will!" like a child that has been punished and +promises to be good. Still another pause, then, "So that part of me is +dead!" and she put her fingers before her eyes and fell to crying, not +with the easy tears of a woman but with the deep, agonizing sobs of a +man over his dead. + +"Kut-le, I wanted you! I wanted you for my mate! If I could have +heard you, seen you, felt you once more! Nothing else would have +mattered. I wanted you!" + +A long hour passed in which Rhoda sat in the sand, limp and quiescent, +as though all but wrecked by the storm through which she had passed. +Dawn came at last. The air was pregnant with new hope, with a vague +uplifting of sense and being that told of the coming of a new day. The +east quivered with prismatic colors and suddenly the sun appeared. + +Rhoda rose and stooped over DeWitt to smooth the hair back from his +forehead. + +"Come," she said softly. "It's breakfast time!" + +DeWitt sat up bewildered. Then his senses returned. + +"Rhoda," he exclaimed, "what do you mean by this!" + +Rhoda's smile was a little wan. + +"You needed the rest and I didn't!" + +DeWitt rose and shook himself like a great dog, then looked at Rhoda +wonderingly. + +"And you don't look much done up! But you had no right to do such a +thing! I told you to give me ten minutes. I feel like a brute. Lie +down now and get a little sleep yourself." + +"Lie in the sun? Thank you, I'd rather push on to the camp and have +some breakfast. How do you feel?" + +"Much better! It was fine of you, dear, but it wasn't a fair deal." + +"I'll be good from now on!" said Rhoda meekly. "What would you like +for breakfast?" + +DeWitt looked about him. Already the desert was assuming its brazen +aspect. + +"Water will be enough for me," he answered, "and nothing else. I am +seriously considering a rigid diet for a time." + +They both drank sparingly of the water in Rhoda's canteen. + +"I have three shots in my Colt," said DeWitt, "but I want to save them +for an emergency. But if we don't strike camp pretty soon, I'll try to +pot a jack-rabbit." + +"We can eat desert mice," said Rhoda. "I know how to catch and cook +them!" + +"Heaven forbid!" ejaculated DeWitt. "Let's start on at once, if you're +not too tired." + +So they began the day cheerfully. As the morning wore on and they +found no trace of the camp, they began to watch the canteen carefully. +Gradually their thirst became so great that the desire for food was +quite secondary to it and they made no attempt to hunt for a rabbit. +They agreed toward noon to save the last few drops in the canteen until +they could no longer do without it. + +Hour after hour they toiled in the blinding heat, the strange deep blue +of the sky reflecting the brazen light of the desert. In their careful +avoiding of the mountain where they had rested at sunset the night +before, they gradually worked out into a wide barren space with dunes +and rock heaps interchanging. + +"This won't do at all," said Dewitt at last, wearily. "We had better +try for any old mountain at all in the hope of finding water." + +They stood panting, staring at the distant haze of a peak. Trackless +and tortuous, the way underfoot was incredibly difficult. Yet the +distances melted in ephemeral slopes as lovely in their tints as they +were accursed in their reality of cruelty. Rhoda, unaccustomed to day +travel, panted and gasped as they walked. But she held her own fairly +well, while DeWitt, sick and overstrained at the start, was failing +rapidly. + +"It's noon now," said John a little thickly. "You had better lie in +the shade of that rock for an hour." + +"You sleep too!" pleaded Rhoda. + +"I'm too hot to sleep. I'll wake you in an hour." + +When Rhoda awoke it was to see DeWitt leaning against the rock heap, +his lips swollen, his eyes uncertain. + +Weak and dizzy herself, she rose and laid her hand on John's, every +maternal instinct in her stirring and speaking in her gray eyes. + +"Come, dear boy, we mustn't give up so easily." + +John lifted the little hand to his cheek. + +"I won't give up," he said uncertainly. "I'll take care of you, honey +girl!" + +"Come on, then!" said Rhoda. "You see that queer bunch of cholla +yonder? Let's get as far as that before we stop again!" + +With a great effort, DeWitt gathered himself together and, fixing his +eyes on the fantastic cactus growth, he plodded desperately through the +sand. At the cholla bunch, Rhoda pointed to a jutting lavender rock. + +"At that we'll rest for a minute. Come on, John!" + +John's sick eyes did not waver but his trembling legs described many +circles in their journey to the jutting rock. Distances were so many +times what they seemed that Rhoda's little scheme carried them over a +mile of desert before DeWitt sank to his knees. + +"I'm a sick man," he said huskily as he fell in a limp heap. + +Nothing could have appeared more opportunely than this new hardship to +take Rhoda's mind off her misery of the night. Nothing could have +brought John so near to her as this utter helplessness brought about +through his toiling for her. She looked at him with tears of pity in +her eyes, while her heart sank with fright. She knew the terrible +danger that menaced them. But she closed her lips firmly and looked +thoughtfully at the mite of water that remained to them. Then she held +the canteen to DeWitt's lips. He pushed it away from him and in +another moment or so he rose. + +Rhoda, fastening their hopes to another distant cholla, led the way on +again. But she too was growing a little light-headed. The distant +cactus danced grotesquely and black spots flitted between her and the +molten iron over which, her fancy said they traveled. Suddenly she +laughed crazily: + + "'Twas brillig, and the slythy toves + Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; + All mimsy were the borogoves, + And the mome raths outgrabe!" + +DeWitt laughed hoarsely. + +"That's just the way it looks to me, Rhoda. But you're just as crazy +as I am." + +Rhoda jerked herself together and tried to moisten her lips with her +swollen tongue. + +"We must take it turn about. When you are crazy I must try to be sane!" + +"Good idea!" croaked DeWitt, "only I'm crazy all the time!" + + "'O frabjous day! Calloo! Collay! + He chortled in his joy!'" + +Rhoda patted his hand. + +"Poor John! Oh, my poor John! I was not worth all this. You may not +have an Apache's strength, but your heart is right!" Two great tears +rolled down her cheeks. + +DeWitt looked at her seriously. + +"You aren't as dry as I am. I haven't enough moisture in me to moisten +my eyeballs, let alone cry! I am so cracked and dry that you will have +to soak me in the first spring we come to before I'll hold water." + +Rhoda laughed weakly and John turned away with a hurt look. + +"It's not a joke!" he said. + +How long they were, in their staggering, circuitous course, in reaching +their goal of cholla, Rhoda never knew. She knew that each heavy foot, +tingling and scorched, seemed to drag her back a step for every one +that she took forward. She knew that she repeatedly offered the last +of their water to John and that he repeatedly refused it, urging it on +her. She knew that the pulp of the barrel cactus that she tried to +chew turned to bitter sawdust in her mouth and sickened her. Then +suddenly, as she struggled to refocus her wandering wits on the cholla, +it appeared within touch of her hand. + +Afraid to pause, she adopted a new goal in a far mesa, and clutching +DeWitt's unresponsive fingers she struggled forward. + +And so on and on toward a never nearing goal; now falling, now rising, +now pausing to strive to hush Dewitt's cracked voice that wandered +aimlessly through all the changes of verse that seemed to his delirium +appropriate to the occasion. It seemed to Rhoda that her own brain was +reeling as she watched the illimitable space through which they moved. +John's voice did not cease. + + "Alone! Alone! All, all, alone! + Alone on a wide, wide sea! + So lonely 'twas that God himself, + Scarce seemed there to be!" + +"Hush, John! Hush!" pleaded Rhoda. + + "Alone! Alone! All, all alone!" + +repeated the croaking voice. + +"But I'm with you, John!" Rhoda pleaded, but DeWitt rambled on +unheeding. + +The way grew indescribably rough. The desert floor became a series of +sand dunes, a rise and fall of sea-like billows over which they climbed +like ants over a new-plowed field. In the hollow of each wave they +rested, sinking in the sand, where, breathless and scorching, the air +scintillated above their motionless forms. At the crest of each they +rested again, the desert wind hurtling the hot sand against their +parched skins. Frequently John refused to rise and Rhoda in her half +delirium would sink beside him until the mist lifted from her brain and +once more the distant mesa forced itself upon her vision. + +"Come, John, we will soon be there. We can't keep on this way forever +and not reach some place. Please come, dear!" + +"'He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside +still waters. He restoreth my soul--'" + +"Perhaps there will be water there! O John, dear John, if you love me, +come!" + +"I don't love you, little boy! I love Rhoda Tuttle. + + "O for a draught of vintage that hath been + Cooled a long age in deep delved earth!" + +"Please, John! I'm so sick!" + +The man, after two or three attempts, staggered to his feet and stood +swaying. + +"God help me!" he said. "I can do no more!" + +"Yes, you can, John! Yes, you can! Perhaps there is a whole fountain +of water there on the mesa!" + +The glazed look returned to DeWitt's eyes. + +"'Or the pitcher be broken at the fountain,'" he muttered, "'or the +wheel broken at the cistern--or the pitcher broken at the fountain, or +the wheel--'" + +Rhoda threw her arm across her eyes. + +"Oh, not that, John! I can't bear that one!" + +Again, she stood upon the roof at Chira, looking up into Kut-le's face. +Again the low wailing of the Indian women and the indescribable depth +and hunger of those dear black eyes. Again the sense of protection and +content in his nearness. + +"O Kut-le! Kut-le!" she moaned. + +Instantly sanity returned to John's eyes. + +"Why did you say Kut-le?" he demanded thickly. + +"Were you thinking of him?" + +"Yes," answered Rhoda simply. "Come on, John!" + +DeWitt struggled on bravely to the crest of the next dune. + +"I hate that Apache devil!" he muttered. "I am going to kill him!" + +Rhoda quickly saw the magic of Kut-le's name. + +"Why should you want to kill Kut-le?" she asked as Dewitt paused at the +top of the next dune. Instantly he started on. + +"Because I hate him! I hate him, the devil!" + +"See how near the mesa is, John! Only a little way! Kut-le would say +we were poor stuff!" + +"No doubt! Well, I'll let a gun give him my opinion of him!" + +The sand dunes had indeed beaten themselves out against the wall of a +giant mesa. Rhoda followed blindly along the wall and stumbled upon a +precipitous trail leading upward. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE FORGOTTEN CITY + +Up this tortuous trail Rhoda staggered, closely followed by DeWitt. At +a level spot the girl paused. + +"Water, John! Water!" she cried. + +The two threw themselves down and drank of the bubbling spring until +they could hold no more. Then Rhoda lay down on the sun-warmed rocks +and sleep overwhelmed her. + +She opened her eyes to stare into a yellow moon that floated liquidly +above her. Whether she had slept through a night and a day or whether +but a few hours had elapsed since she had staggered to the spring +beside which she lay, she could not tell. She lay looking up into the +sky languidly, but with clear mind. A deep sigh roused her. DeWitt +sat on the other side of the spring, rubbing his eyes. + +"Hello!" he said in a hoarse croak. "How did we land here?" + +"I led us here sometime in past ages. When or how, _quien sabe_?" +answered Rhoda. "John, we must find food somehow." + +"Drink all the water you can, Rhoda." said DeWitt; "it helps some, and +I'll pot a rabbit. What a fool I am. You poor girl! More hardships +for you!" + +Rhoda dipped her burning face into the water, then lifted it, dripping. + +"If only you won't be delirious, John, I can stand the hardships." + +DeWitt looked at the girl curiously. + +"Was I delirious? And you were alone, leading me across that Hades out +there? Rhoda dear, you make me ashamed of myself!" + +"I don't see how you were to blame," answered Rhoda stoutly. "Think +what you have been doing for me!" + +John rose stiffly. + +"Do you feel equal to climbing this trail with me, to find where we +are, or had you rather stay here?" + +"I don't want to stay here alone," answered Rhoda. + +Very slowly and weakly they started up the trail. The spring was on a +broad stone terrace. Above it rose another terrace weathered and +disrupted until in the moonlight it looked like an impregnable castle +wall, embattled and embuttressed. But clinging to the seemingly +invulnerable fortress was the trail, a snake-like shadow in the +moonlight. + +"Perhaps we had better stay at the spring until morning," suggested +Rhoda, her weak legs flagging. + +"Not with the hope of shelter a hundred feet above us," answered John +firmly. "This trail is worn six inches into the solid rock. My guess +is that there are some inhabitants here. It's queer that they haven't +discovered us." + +Slowly and without further protest, Rhoda followed DeWitt up the trail. +Deep-worn and smooth though it was, they accomplished their task with +infinite difficulty. Rhoda, stumbling like a sleep-sodden child, +wondered if ever again she was to accomplish physical feats with the +magical ease with which Kut-le had endowed her. + +"If he were here, I'd know I was to tumble into a comfortable camp," +she thought. Then with a remorseful glance at DeWitt's patient back, +"What a selfish beast you are, Rhoda Tuttle!" + +She reached John's side and together they paused at the top of the +trail. Black against the sky, the moon crowning its top with a +frost-like radiance, was a huge flat-topped building. Night birds +circled about it. From black openings in its front owls hooted. But +otherwise there was neither sight nor sound of living thing. The +desert far below and beyond lay like a sea of death. Rhoda +unconsciously drew nearer to DeWitt. + +"Where are the dogs? At Chira the dogs barked all night. Indians +always have dogs!" + +"It must be very late," whispered DeWitt. "Even the dogs are asleep!" + +"And at Chira," went on Rhoda, whispering as did DeWitt, "owls didn't +hoot from the windows." + +"Let's go closer," suggested John. + +Rhoda thrust cold little fingers into his hand. + +The doors were empty and forlorn. The terraced walls, built with the +patient labor of the long ago, were sagged and decayed. Riot of +greasewood crowned great heaps of debris. A loneliness as of the end +of the world came upon the two wanderers. Sick and dismayed, they +stood in awe before this relic of the past. + +"_Whoo_! _Whoo_!" an owl's cry sounded from the black window openings. + +DeWitt spoke softly. + +"Rhoda, it's one of the forgotten cities!" + +"Let's go back! Let's go back to the spring!" pleaded Rhoda. "It is +so uncanny in the dark!" + +"No!" DeWitt rubbed his aching head wearily. "I must contrive some +sort of shelter for you. Almost anything is better than another night +in the open desert. Come on! We will explore a little." + +"Let's wait till morning," begged Rhoda. "I'm so cold and shivery." + +"Dear sweetheart, that's just the point. You will be sick if you don't +have some sort of shelter. You have suffered enough. Will you sit +here and let me look about?" + +"No! No! I don't want to be left alone." + +Rhoda followed John closely up into the mass of fallen rock. + +DeWitt smiled. It appealed to the tenderest part of his nature that +the girl who had led him through the terrible experiences of the desert +should show fear now that a haven was reached. + +"Come on, little girl," he said. + +Painfully, for they both were weak and dizzy, they clambered to a gaunt +opening in the gray wall. Rhoda clutched John's arm with a little +scream as a bat whirred close by them. Within the opening DeWitt +scratched one of his carefully hoarded matches. The tiny flare +revealed a small adobe-walled room, quite bare save for broken bits of +pottery on the floor. John lighted a handful of greasewood and by its +brilliant light they examined the floor and walls. + +"What a clean, dry little room!" exclaimed Rhoda. "Oh, I am so tired +and sleepy!" + +"Let's look a little farther before we stop. What's on the other side +of this broken wall?" + +They picked their way across the litter of pottery and peered into +another room, the duplicate of the first. + +"How will these do for our respective sleeping-rooms?" asked DeWitt. + +Rhoda stared at John with horror in her eyes. + +"I'd as soon sleep in a tomb! Let's make a fire outside and sleep +under the stars. I'd rather have sleep than food just now." + +"It will have to be just a tiny smudge, up behind this debris, where +Kut-le can't spot it," answered DeWitt. "I won't mind having a red eye +of fire for company. It will help to keep me awake." + +"But you must sleep," protested Rhoda. + +"But I mustn't," answered John grimly. "I've played the baby act on +this picnic as much as I propose to. It is my trick at the wheel." + +Too weary to protest further, Rhoda threw herself down with her feet +toward the fire and pillowed her head on her arm. DeWitt filled his +pipe and sat puffing it, with his arms folded across his knees. Rhoda +watched him for a moment or two. She found herself admiring the full +forehead, the lines of refinement about the lips that the beard could +not fully conceal. + +"He's not as handsome as Kut-le," she thought wearily, "but +he's--he's--" but before her thought was completed she was asleep. + +Rhoda woke at dawn and lay waiting for the stir of the squaws about the +morning meal. Then with a start she rose and looked soberly about her. +Suddenly she smiled. + +"Tenderfoot!" she murmured. + +DeWitt lay fast asleep by the ashes of the fire. + +"If Kut-le," she thought. Then she stopped abruptly and stamped her +foot. "You are not even to think of Kut-le any more!" And with her +cleft chin very firm she descended the trail to the spring. When she +returned, DeWitt was rising stiffly to his feet. + +"Hello!" he cried. "I was good this time. I never closed my eyes till +dawn. I'm so hungry I could eat greasewood. How do you feel?" + +"Weak with hunger but otherwise very well. Go wash your face, Johnny." + +DeWitt grinned and started down the trail obediently. But Rhoda laid a +detaining hand on his arm. The sun was but a moment high. All the +mesa front lay in purple shadows, though farther out the desert glowed +with the yellow light of a new day. + +"I think animals come to the spring to drink," said Rhoda. "There were +tiny wet footmarks there when I went down to wash my face." + +"Bully!" exclaimed John. "Wait now, let's watch." + +The two dropped to the ground and peered over the edge of the upper +terrace. The spring bubbled forth serenely, followed its shallow +trough a short distance, then disappeared into the insatiable floor of +the desert. For several moments the two lay watching until at last +Rhoda grew restless. DeWitt laid a detaining hand on her arm. + +"Hush!" he whispered. + +A pair of jack-rabbits loped up the trail, sniffed the air tentatively, +then with forelegs in the water drank greedily. DeWitt's right arm +stiffened, there were two puffs of smoke and the two kicking rabbits +rolled into the spring. + +"I'm beginning to have a little self-respect as the man of the party," +said DeWitt, as he blew the smoke from his Colt. + +Rhoda ran down to the spring and lifted the two wet little bodies. +John took them from her. + +"If you'll find some place for a table, I'll bring these up in no time." + +When DeWitt came up from the spring with the dressed rabbits, he found +a little fire glowing between two rocks. Near by on a big flat-topped +stone were set forth two earthen bowls, with a brown water-jar in the +center. As he stared, Rhoda came out of the building with interested +face. + +"Look, John! See what I found on a little corner shelf!" She held in +her outstretched hand a tiny jar no bigger than a wine-glass. It was +of an exquisitely polished black. "Not even an explorer can have been +here, or nothing so perfect as this would have been left! What hands +do you suppose made this!" + +But DeWitt did not answer her question. + +"Now, look here, Rhoda, you aren't to do anything like starting a fire +and lugging these heavy jars again! You're not with the Indians now. +You've got a man to wait on you!" + +Rhoda looked at him curiously. + +"But I've learned to like to do it!" she protested. "Nobody can roast +a rabbit to suit me but myself," and in spite of DeWitt's protests she +spitted the rabbits and would not let him tend the fire which she said +was too fine an art for his untrained hands. In a short time the rich +odor of roasting flesh rose on the air and John watched the pretty cook +with admiration mingled with perplexity. Rhoda insisting on cooking a +meal! More than that, Rhoda evidently enjoying the job! The idea left +him speechless. + +An hour after Rhoda had spitted the game, John sighed with contentment +as he looked at the pile of bones beside his earthen bowl. + +"And they say jacks aren't good eating!" he said. "Why if they had +been salted they would have been better than any game I ever ate!" + +"You never were so hungry before," said Rhoda. "Still, they were well +roasted, now weren't they?" + +"Your vanity is colossal, Miss Tuttle," laughed John, "but I will admit +that I never saw better roasting." Then he said soberly, "I believe we +had better not try the trail again today, Rhoda dear. We don't know +where to go and we've no supplies. We'd better get our strength up, +resting here today, and tomorrow start in good shape." + +Rhoda looked wistfully from the shade of the pueblo out over the +desert. She had become very, very tired of this endless fleeing. + +"I wish the Newman ranch was just over beyond," she said. "John, what +will you do if Kut-le comes on us here?" + +DeWitt's forehead burned a painful red. + +"I have a shot left in my revolver," he said. + +Rhoda walked ever to John and put one hand on his shoulder as he sat +looking up at her with somber blue eyes. + +"John," she said, "I want you to promise me that you will fire at +Kut-le only in the last extremity to keep him from carrying me off, and +that you will shoot only as Porter did, to lame and not to kill." + +John's jaws came together and he returned the girl's scrutiny with a +steel-like glance. + +"Why do you plead for him?" he asked finally. + +"He saved my life," she answered simply. + +John rose and walked up and down restlessly. + +"Rhoda, if a white man had done this thing I would shoot him as I would +a dog. What do I care for a law in a case like this! We were men long +before we had laws. Why should this Indian be let go when he has done +what a white would be shot for?" + +Rhoda looked at him keenly. + +"You talk as if in your heart you knew you were going to kill him +because he is an Indian and were trying to justify yourself for it!" + +He turned on the girl a look so haunted, so miserable, yet so +determined, that her heart sank. For a time there was silence, each +afraid to speak. At last Rhoda said coolly: + +"Will you get fresh water while I bank in the fire?" + +DeWitt's face relaxed. He smiled a little grimly. + +"I'll do anything for you but that one thing--promise not to kill the +Indian." + +"The desert has changed us both, John," said Rhoda. "It has taken the +veneer off both of us!" + +"Maybe so," replied DeWitt. "I only know that that Apache must pay for +the hell you and I have lived through." + +"Look at me, John!" cried Rhoda. "Can't you realize that the good +Kut-le has done me has been far greater than his affront to me? Do you +see how well I am, how strong? Oh, if I could only make you see what a +different world I live in! You would have been tied to an invalid, +John, if Kut-le hadn't stolen me! Think now of all I can do for you! +Of the home I can make, of the work I can do!" + +DeWitt answered tersely. + +"I'm mighty glad you're well, but only for your own sake and because I +can have you longer. I don't want you to work for me. I'll do all the +working that's done in our family!" + +"But," protested Rhoda, "that's just keeping me lazy and selfish!" + +"You couldn't be selfish if you tried. You pay your way with your +beauty. When I think of that Apache devil having the joy of you all +this time, watching you grow back to health, taking care of you, +carrying you, it makes me feel like a cave man. I could kill him with +a club! Thank heaven, the lynch law can hold in this forsaken spot! +And there isn't a man in the country but will back me up, not a jury +that would find me guilty!" + +Rhoda sat in utter consternation. The power of the desert to lay bare +the human soul appalled her. This was a DeWitt that the East never +could have shown her. It sickened her as she realized that no words of +hers could sway this man; to realize that she was trying to stay with +her feeble feminine hands passions that were as old a world-force as +love itself. All her new-found strength seemed inadequate to solve +this new problem. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE TRAIL AGAIN + +For a long time Rhoda sat silently considering her problem and John +watched her soberly. Finally she turned to speak. As she did so, she +caught on the young man's face a look so weary, so puzzled, so +altogether wretched that the girl's heart smote her. This was indeed a +poor return for what he had endured for her! Rhoda jumped to her feet +with resolution in her eyes. "Are you too tired to explore the ruins?" +she asked. DeWitt rose languidly. Rhoda had responded at once to rest +and food but John would need a month of care and quiet in which to +regain his strength. + +"I'll do anything you want me to--in that line!" + +Rhoda carefully ignored the last phrase. + +"Even if we're half dead, it's too bad to miss the opportunity to +examine such a wonderful thing as this. You couldn't find as glorious +a setting for a ruin anywhere in Europe." + +"Oh, yes, you could; lots of 'em," answered DeWitt. "You can't compare +a ruin like this with anything in Europe. What makes European ruins +appeal to us is not only their intrinsic beauty but the association of +big ideas with them. We know that big thoughts built them and perhaps +destroyed them." + +"What do you call big thoughts?" asked Rhoda. "Wasn't it just as great +for these Pueblo Indians to perform such terrible labor in building +this for their families as it was for some old king to work thousands +of slaves to death to build him a monument?" + +DeWitt laughed. + +"Rhoda, you can love the desert, its Indians and its ruins all you want +to, if you won't ask me to! I've had all I want of the three of them! +Lord, how I hate it all!" + +Rhoda looked at him wistfully. If only he could understand the +spiritual change in her that was even greater than the physical! If +only he could see the beauty of those far lavender hazes! If only he +could understand how even now she was heartsick for the night trail +where one looked up into the sky as into a shadowy opal! If only he +knew the peace that had dwelt with her on the holiday ledge where there +were tints and beauties too deep for words! And yet with the +wistfulness came a strange sense of satisfaction that all this new part +of her must belong forever to Kut-le. + +John led the way into the dwelling. All was emptiness and ruin. All +that remained of the old life within its walls were wonderful bits of +pottery. Only once did DeWitt give evidence of pleasure. He was +examining the carefully finished walls of one of the rooms when he +called: + +"I say, Rhoda, just look at this bit of humanness!" + +Rhoda came to him quickly and he pointed low down on the adobe wall +where was the perfect imprint of a baby's hand. + +"The little rascal got spanked, I'll bet, for putting his hand on the +'dobe before it was dry!" commented John. + +Rhoda smiled but said nothing. These departed peoples had become very +real and very pitiable to her. + +As soon as he could drag Rhoda from the ancient pots, John led the way +to the top of the ruin. He was anxious to find if there were more than +the one trail leading from the desert. To his great satisfaction he +found that the mesa was unscalable except at the point that Rhoda had +found as she staggered up from the desert. + +"I'm going to guard that trail tonight," he said. "It's just possible, +you know, that Kut-le escaped from Porter, though I think if he had he +would have been upon us long before this. I've been mighty careless. +But my brain is so tired it seems to have been off duty. I could hold +that trail single-handed from the upper terrace for a week." + +"Just remember," said Rhoda quickly, "that I've asked you not to shoot +to kill!" + +Again the hard light gleamed in DeWitt's eyes. + +"I shall have a few words with him first, then I shall shoot to kill. +There is that between that Indian and me which a woman evidently can't +understand. I just can't see why you take the stand you do!" + +"John dear," cried Rhoda, "put yourself in his place. With all the +race prejudice against you that he had, wouldn't you have done as he +has?" + +"Probably," answered Dewitt calmly. "I also would have expected what +he is going to get." + +A sudden sense of the bizarre nature of their conversation caused Rhoda +to say comically: + +"I never knew that you could have such _bloody_ ideas, John!" + +DeWitt was glad to turn the conversation. + +"I am so only occasionally," he said. "For instance, instead of +shooting the rabbit for supper, I'm going to try a figure-four trap." + +They returned to their little camp on the upper terrace and Rhoda sat +with wistful gray eyes fastened on the desert while John busied himself +with the trap-making. He worked with the skill of his country boyhood +and the trap was cleverly finished. + +"It's evident that I'm not the leader of the expedition any more," said +Rhoda, looking at the trap admiringly. + +John shook his head. + +"I've lost my faith in myself as a hero. It's one thing to read of the +desert and think how well you could have managed there, and another +thing to be on the spot!" + +The day passed slowly. As night drew on the two on the mesa top grew +more and more anxious. There was little doubt but that they could live +for a number of days at the old pueblo, yet it was evident that the +ruin was far from any traveled trail and that chances of discovery were +slight except by Kut-le. On the other hand, they were absolutely +unprepared for a walking trip across the desert. Troubled and +uncertain what to do, they watched the wonder of the sunset. Deeper, +richer, more divine grew the colors of the desert, and in one supreme, +flaming glory the sun sank from view. + +DeWitt with his arm across Rhoda's shoulders spoke anxiously. + +"Don't you still think we'd better start tomorrow?" + +"Yes," she answered, "I suppose so. What direction shall we take?" + +"East," replied DeWitt. "We're bound to strike help if we can keep +going long enough in one direction. We'll cook a good supply of +rabbits and I'll fix up one of those bowl-like ollas with my +handkerchief, so we can carry water in it as well as in the two +canteens. I think you had better sleep in the little room there +tonight and I'll lie across the end of the trail here." + +Rhoda sighed. + +"I've nothing better to suggest. As you say, it's all guesswork!" + +They set the rabbit trap by the spring, then Rhoda, quite recovered +from her nervousness of the night before, entered her little +sleeping-room and made ready for the night. The front of the room had +so crumbled away that she could see John's dark form by the trail, and +she lay down with a sense of security and fell asleep at once. + +John paced the terrace for a long hour after Rhoda was asleep, trying +to plan every detail for the morrow. He dared not confess even to +himself how utterly disheartened he felt in the face of this terrible +adversary, the desert. Finally, realizing that he must have rest if +Rhoda was not to repeat her previous experience in leading him across +the desert he stretched himself on the ground across the head of the +trail. He must trust to his nervousness to make him sleep lightly. + +How long she had slept Rhoda did not know when she was wakened by a +half-muffled oath from DeWitt. She jumped to her feet and ran out to +the terrace. Never while life remained to her was she to forget what +she saw there. DeWitt and Kut-le were wrestling in each other's grip! +Rhoda stood horrified. As the two men twisted about, DeWitt saw the +girl and panted: + +"Don't stir, Rhoda! Don't call or you'll have his whole bunch up here!" + +"Don't worry about that!" exclaimed Kut-le. "You've been wanting to +get hold of me. Now we'll fight it out bare-handed and the best man +wins." + +Rhoda looked wildly down the trail, then ran up to the two men. + +"Stop!" she screamed. "Stop!" Then as she caught the look in the +men's faces as they glared at each other she cried, "I hate you both, +you beasts!" + +Her screams carried far in the night air, for in a moment Cesca came +panting up the trail. She lunged at DeWitt with catlike fury, but at a +sharp word from Kut-le she turned to Rhoda and stood guard beside the +girl. Rhoda stood helplessly watching the battle as one watches the +horrors of a nightmare. + +Kut-le and DeWitt now were fighting as two wolves fight. Both the men +were trained wrestlers, but in their fury all their scientific training +was forgotten, and rolling over and over on the rocky trail each fought +for a hold on the other's throat. With Kut-le was the advantage of +perfect condition and superior strength. But DeWitt was fighting for +his stolen mate. He was fighting like a cave man who has brooded for +months on his revenge, and he was a terrible adversary. He had the +sudden strength, the fearful recklessness of a madman. Now rolling on +the edge of the terrace, now high against the crumbling pueblo, the +savage and the civilized creature dragged each other back and forth. +And Rhoda, awed by this display of passions, stood like the First Woman +and waited! + +Of a sudden Kut-le disentangled himself and with knees on DeWitt's +shoulders he clutched at the white man's throat. At the same time, +DeWitt gathered together his recumbent body and with a mighty heave he +flung Kut-le over his head. Rhoda gave a little cry, thinking the +fight was ended; but as Kut-le gained his feet, DeWitt sprang to meet +him and the struggle was renewed. Rhoda never had dreamed of a sight +so sickening as this of the two men she knew so well fighting for each +other's throats with the animal's lust for killing. She did not know +what would be Kut-le's course if he gained the mastery, but as she +caught glimpses of DeWitt's face with its clenched teeth and terrible +look of loathing she knew that if his fingers ever reached Kut-le's +throat the Indian could hope for no mercy. + +And then she saw DeWitt's face go white and his head drop back. + +"Oh!" she screamed. "You've killed him! You've killed him!" + +The Indian's voice came in jerks as he eased DeWitt to the ground. + +"He's just fainted. He's put up a tremendous fight for a man in his +condition!" + +As he spoke he was tying DeWitt's hands and ankles with his own and +DeWitt's handkerchiefs. Rhoda would have run to DeWitt's aid but +Cesca's hand was tight on her arm. Before the girl could plan any +action, Kut-le had turned to her and had lifted her in his arms. She +fought him wildly. + +"I can't leave him so, Kut-le! You will kill all I've learned to feel +for you if you leave him so!" + +"He'll be all right!" panted Kut-le, running down the trail. "I've got +Billy Porter down here to leave with him!" + +At the foot of the trail were horses. Gagged and bound to his saddle +Billy Porter sat in the moonlight with Molly on guard. Kut-le put +Rhoda on a horse, then quickly thrust Porter to the ground, where the +man sat helplessly. + +"Oh, Billy!" cried Rhoda. "John is on the terrace! Find him! Help +him!" + +The last words were spoken as Kut-le turned her horse and led at a trot +into the desert. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE RUINED MISSION + +Rhoda was so confused that for a moment she could only ease herself to +the pony's swift canter and wonder if her encounter with DeWitt had +been but a dream after all. A short distance from the pueblo Kut-le +rode in beside her. It was very dark, with the heavy blackness that +just precedes the dawn, but Rhoda felt that the Indian was looking at +her exultingly. + +"It seemed as if I never would get Alchise and Injun Tom moved to a +friend's _campos_ so that I could overtake you. I will say that that +fellow Porter is game to the finish. It took me an hour to subdue him! +Now, don't worry about the two of them. With a little work they can +loose themselves and help each other to safety. I saw Newman's trail +ten miles or so over beyond the pueblo mesa and I told Porter just how +to go to pick him up." + +Rhoda laughed hysterically. + +"No wonder you have such a hold on your Indians! You seem never to +fail! I do believe as much of it is luck as ingenuity!" + +Kut-le chuckled. + +"What a jolt DeWitt will find when he comes to, and finds Porter!" + +"You needn't gloat over the situation, Kut-le!" exclaimed Rhoda, half +sobbing in her conflict of emotions. + +"Oh, you mustn't mind anything I say," returned the young Indian. "I +am crazy with joy at just hearing your voice again! Are you really +sorry to be with me again? Did DeWitt mean as much to you as ever? +Tell me, Rhoda! Say just one kindly thing to me!" + +"O Kut-le," cried Rhoda, "I can't! I can't! You must help me to be +strong! You--who are the strongest person that I know! Can't you put +yourself in my place and realize what a horrible position I am in?" + +Kut-le answered slowly. + +"I guess I can realize it. But the end is so great, so much worth +while that nothing before that matters much, to me! Rhoda, isn't this +good--the lift of the horse under your knees--the air rushing past your +face--the weave and twist of the trail--don't they speak to you and +doesn't your heart answer?" + +"Yes," answered Rhoda simply. + +The young Indian rode still closer. Dawn was lifting now, and with a +gasp Rhoda saw what she had been too agonized to heed on the terrace in +the moonlight. Kut-le was clothed again! He wore the khaki suit, the +high-laced riding boots of the ranch days; and he wore them with the +grace, the debonair ease that had so charmed Rhoda in young Cartwell. +That little sense of his difference that his Indian nakedness had kept +in Rhoda's subconsciousness disappeared. She stared at his broad, +graceful shoulders, at the fine outline of his head which still was +bare, and she knew that her decision was going to be indescribably +difficult to keep. Kut-le watched the wistful gray eyes tenderly, as +if he realized the depth of anguish behind their wistfulness; yet he +watched none the less resolutely, as if he had no qualms over the +outcome of his plans. And Rhoda, returning his gaze, caught the depth +and splendor of his eyes. And that wordless joy of life whose thrill +had touched her the first time that she had met young Cartwell rushed +through her veins once more. He was the youth, the splendor, the vivid +wholesomeness of the desert! He was the heart itself, of the desert. + +Kut-le laid his hand on hers. + +"Rhoda," softly, "do you remember the moment before Porter interrupted +us? Ah, dear one, you will have to prove much to erase the truth of +that moment from our hearts! How much longer must I wait for you, +Rhoda?" + +Rhoda did not speak, but as she returned the young man's gaze there +came her rare slow smile of unspeakable beauty and tenderness. Kut-le +trembled; but before he could speak Rhoda seemed to see between his +face and hers, DeWitt, haggard and exhausted, expending the last +remnant of his strength in his fight for her. She put her hands before +her face with a little sob. + +Kut-le watched her in silence for a moment, then he said in his low +rich voice: + +"Neither DeWitt nor I want you to suffer over your decision. And +DeWitt doesn't want just the shell of you. I have the real you! O +Rhoda, the real you will belong to me if you are seven times DeWitt's +wife! Can't you realize that forever and ever you are mine, no matter +how you fight or what you do?" + +But Rhoda scarcely heard him. She was with DeWitt, struggling across +the parching sands. + +"O Kut-le! Kut-le! What shall I do! What shall I do!" + +Kut-le started to answer, then changed his mind. + +"You poor, tired little girl," he said. "You have had a fierce time +there in the desert. You look exhausted. What did you have to eat and +how did you make out crossing to the mesa? By your trail you went +miles out of your way." + +Rhoda struggled for calm. + +"We nearly died the first day," she said. "But we did very well after +we reached the mesa." + +Kut-le smiled to himself. It was hard even for him to realize that +this plucky girl who passed so simply over such an ordeal as he knew +she must have endured could be the Rhoda of the ranch. But he said +only: + +"We'll make for the timber line and let you rest for a while." + +At mid-morning they left the desert and began to climb a rough mountain +slope. At the pinon line, Kut-le called a halt. Never before had +shade seemed so good to Rhoda as it did now. She lay on the +pine-needles looking up into the soft green. It was unspeakably +grateful to her eyes which had been so long tortured by the desert +glare. She lay thus for a long time, her mental pain for a while lost +in the access of physical comfort. Shortly Molly, who had been working +rapidly, brought her a steaming bowl of stew. Rhoda ate this, then +with her head pillowed on her arm she fell asleep. + +She was wakened by Molly's touch on her arm. It was late afternoon. +Rhoda looked up into the squaw's face and drew a quick hard breath as +realization came to her. + +"Molly! Molly!" she cried. "I'm in terrible, terrible trouble, Molly!" + +The squaw looked worried. + +"You no go away! Kut-le heap sorry while you gone!" + +But Rhoda scarcely heeded the woman's voice. She rolled over with her +hot face in the fragrant needles and groaned. + +"O Molly! Molly! I'm in terrible trouble!" + +"What trouble? You tell old Molly!" + +Rhoda sat up and stared into the deep brown eyes. Just as Kut-le had +become to her the splendor of the desert, so had Molly become the +brooding wisdom of the desert. With sudden inspiration she grasped the +Indian woman's toil-scarred hands. + +"Listen, Molly! Before I knew Kut-le, I was going to marry the white +man, DeWitt. And after he stole me I hated Kut-le and I hated the +desert. And now, O Molly, I love both Kut-le and the desert, and I +must marry the white man!" + +"Why? You tell Molly why?" + +"Because he is white, Molly, like me. Because he loves me so and has +done so much for me! But most of all because he is white!" + +Molly scowled. + +"Because Kut-le is Injun, you no marry him?" + +Rhoda nodded miserably. + +"Huh! And you think you so big, Kut-le so big that Great Spirit care +if you marry white, marry Injun. All Great Spirit care is for every +squaw to have papoose. Squaw, she big fool to listen to her head. +Squaw, she must always listen to her heart, that is Great Spirit +talking. Your heart, it say marry Kut-le!" + +Molly paused and looked at the girl, who sat with stormy eyes on the +sinking sun. And she forgot her hard-earned wisdom and was just a +heart-hungry woman. + +"You stay! Stay with Kut-le and old Molly! You so sweet! You like +little childs! You lie in old Molly's heart like little girl papoose +that never came to Molly. You stay! Always, always, Molly will take +care of you!" + +Rhoda was deeply touched. This was the cry of the famished motherhood +of a dying race. She put her soft cheek on Molly's shoulder and she +could no longer see the sun, for her eyes were tear-blinded. Kut-le, +standing on the other side of the camp, looked at the picture with +deepening eyes; then he crossed and put his hand on Rhoda's shoulder. + +"Dear one," he said, "you must eat your supper, then we must take the +trail." + +Rhoda looked up into the young man's face. She was exquisite in the +failing light. For a moment it seemed as if Kut-le must fold her in +his arms; but something in her troubled gaze withheld him and he only +smiled at her caressingly. + +"Before you eat," he said, "come to the edge of the camp and look +through the glasses." + +Rhoda hurried after him, and stared out over the desert. A short +distance out, vivid in the afterglow, moved two figures. She +distinguished the short wiry figure of Porter, the gaunt figure of +DeWitt, walking with determined strides. Waiting till she could +command her voice, Rhoda turned to Kut-le. He was watching her keenly. + +"Will they pick up our trail? Are the poor things badly lost?" + +"Billy Porter lost! I guess not! And I gave him enough hints so that +he ought to join Newman in another twenty-four hours." + +Rhoda smiled wanly. + +"Sometimes you forget to act like a cold-blooded Indian." + +Kut-le gave his familiar chuckle. + +"Well, you see, I've been contaminated by my long association with the +whites!" + +And so again the nights of going. During her waking hours, Rhoda spent +the greater part of her time considering arguments that would have +weight with Kut-le when the struggle came which she knew was imminent. + +If she had suffered before, if the early part of her abduction had been +agony, it had been nothing in comparison with what she was enduring in +putting Kut-le aside for DeWitt. And, after all, she had no final +guide in holding to her resolution save an instinct that told her that +her course was the right one. All the arguments that she could put +into words against inter-race marriage seemed inadequate. This +instinct which was wordless and formless alone remained sufficient. + +And with the ill logic of womankind, through all her arguing with +herself there flushed one glad thought. Kut-le knew that she loved +him, knew that she was suffering in the thought of giving him up! His +tender, half sad, half triumphant smile proved that, as did his +protective air of ownership. + +Rhoda noticed one condition of her keeping to her decision. She was +very firm in it at night when the desert was dim. But in the glory of +the dawns and the sunsets, her little arguments seemed strangely small. +Sitting on a mountainside one afternoon, Rhoda watched a rain-storm +sweep across the ranges, across the desert, to the far-lying mesas. +Normally odorless, the desert, after the rain, emitted a faint, +ineffable odor that teased the girl's fancy as if she verged on the +secret of the desert's beauty. Exquisite violet mists rolled back to +the mountains. Flashing every rainbow tint from its moistened breast +the desert lay as if breathing the very words of the Great Scheme. + +Suddenly to Rhoda her resolution seemed small and futile, and for a +long hour she revelled in the thought of belonging to the man she +loved. And yet as night descended and the infinite reaches of the +desert receded into darkness, the spell was broken, and the old doubts +and misery returned. + +And so again, the nights of going. But the holiday aspect of the +flight was gone. Kut-le moved with a grim determination that was not +to be misinterpreted. Rhoda knew that they were to reach the Mexican +border with all possible speed. The young Indian drove the little +party to the limit of its endurance. Rhoda avoided talking to him as +much as she could and Kut-le, seeming to understand her mood, left her +much to herself. + +On the fourth day they camped on a canon edge. After Rhoda had eaten +she walked with Kut-le to the far edge and looked down. The canon was +very deep and narrow. Some distance away, near where it opened on the +desert, lay a heap of ruins. + +"Is that another pueblo?" asked Rhoda. + +"No, it's an old monastery. Part of the year they have a padre there. +I wish I knew if there was one there now." + +"Why?" asked Rhoda suspiciously. + +"Don't bother your dear head," answered Kut-le. Then he went on, as if +half to himself: "There's been an awful lot of fooling on this +expedition. Perhaps I ought to have made for the Mexican border the +very night I took you." He looked at Rhoda's wide, troubled eyes. +"But no, then I would have missed this wonderful desert growth of +yours! But now we are going straight over the border where I know a +padre that will many us. Then we will make for Europe at once." + +The morning sun glinted on the pine-needles. Old Molly hummed a +singsong air over the stew-pot. And Rhoda stood with stormy, +tear-dimmed eyes and quivering lips. + +"It can never, never be, Kut-le!" + +"Why not?" + +"We can't solve the problems of race adjustment. No love is big enough +for that. I have been civilized a thousand years. You have been +savage a thousand years. You can't come forward. I can't go backward." + +"You know well enough, Rhoda," said Kut-le quietly, "that I am +civilized." + +"You are externally, perhaps," said the girl. "But you yourself have +no proof that at heart you are not as uncivilized as your father or +grandfather. Your stealing me shows that. Nothing can change our +instinct. You know that you might revert at any time." + +Kut-le turned on her fiercely. + +"Do you love me, Rhoda?" + +Rhoda stood silently, her cleft chin trembling, her deep gray eyes wide +and grief-stricken. + +"Do you love me--and better than you do DeWitt?" insisted the man, + +Suddenly Rhoda lifted her head proudly. + +"Yes," she said, "I do love you, better than any one in the world; but +I cannot marry you!" + +Kut-le took her trembling hands in his. + +"Why not, dear one?" he asked. + +Still the sun flickered on the pine-needles and still Molly hummed over +her stew-pot. Still Rhoda stood looking into the eyes of the man she +loved, her scarlet cheeks growing each moment more deeply crimson. + +"Because you are an Indian. The instinct in me against such a marriage +is so strong that I dare not go against it." + +Kut-le's mouth closed in the old way. + +"And still you shall marry me, Rhoda!" + +"I am a white woman, Kut-le. I can't marry an Indian. The difference +is too great!" + +Kut-le turned abruptly and walked to the canon edge, looking far out to +the desert. Rhoda, panting and half hysterical, watched him. The +moment which she had so dreaded had arrived, and she found herself, +after all her planning, utterly unprepared to meet it save with +hackneyed phrases. + +It seemed a long time that Kut-le stood staring away from her. At last +Rhoda could bear the silence no longer. She ran to him and put her +trembling hand on his arm. He turned his stern young face to her and +her heart failed her. + +"O Kut-le! Kut-le!" she cried. "If you won't help me to do right, who +will? It's not right for us to marry! Just not right! That's all I +know about it!" + +Kut-le put both hands on her shoulders. + +"Look here, Rhoda. What you call the 'right' instinct is just the +remnant of the old man-made race hatred in you. It's just a part of +the old conceit of the Caucasian." + +Rhoda stirred restlessly, but Kut-le held her firmly and went on. + +"I tell you, if we're not to go mad, we've got to believe that great +things come to us for a purpose. There is no human being who has loved +who does not believe that love is the greatest thing that has been +given to man. The man who has loved knows that the biggest things in +the world have been done for the love of woman. Love is bigger than +nations or races. It's human, not white, or black, or yellow. It's +above all we can do to tarnish it with our little prejudices. When it +comes greatly, it comes supremely." + +He lifted the girl's face and looked deeply into her eyes. + +"Rhoda, if it has come as greatly to you as it has to me, you will not +pause for any sorrow that your coming to me may cost you. You will +come, in spite of everything. I believe that if in your smallness and +ignorance you refuse this gift that has come to you and me, you will be +outraging the greatest force in nature." + +Rhoda stood sorrow-stricken and confused. When the deep, quiet voice +ceased, she said brokenly: + +"I haven't lived in the desert so long as you. The way does not lie so +clear to me. If only I had your conviction, I too could be strong and +walk the path I saw unhesitatingly. But I see no path!" + +"Then," said Kut-le, "because I see, I'll decide for you! O Rhoda, you +must believe in me! I have had you in my power and I have kept the +faith with you. I am going to take you and marry you. I am going to +make this gift that has come to you and me make us the big man and +woman that nature needs. Tonight we shall reach the padre who will +marry us." + +He watched the girl keenly for a moment, then he again turned from her +deliberately and walked to the edge of the canon, as if he wanted her +to come to her final decision unbiased by his nearness. But he turned +back to her with a curious expression on his face. + +"Come and take a good-by look, Rhoda! Your friends are below. I hope +it will be some time before we see them again!" + +Rhoda went to him. Far, far below, she saw little dots of men making +camp beyond the monastery near the desert. Suddenly Rhoda sank to her +knees with a cry of longing that was heart-breaking. + +"O my people! My own people!" she sobbed, crouching upon the canon +edge. + +Kut-le watched the little figure with inscrutable eyes. Then he lifted +the girl to her feet. + +"Rhoda, are you going to eat your heart out for your own kind if you +marry me? Won't I be sufficient? It hadn't occurred to me that I +might not be!" + +"You haven't given up your people," answered Rhoda. "You are always +going back to them." + +"But you aren't really giving them up," urged Kut-le. "It really is I +who make the sacrifice of my race!" + +"And that is the reason for one of my fears," cried Rhoda. "I am +afraid that some day you would find the price too great and that our +marriage would be wrecked." + +"Even if I went back for a few months each year, would that make you +unhappy?" asked Kut-le. + +"Kut-le!" exclaimed Rhoda. "I am not talking of externals. I mean +that if your longing for your own kind made you lose your love for me. +Oh, I can't see any of it straight, but I am afraid!" + +"Nonsense, Rhoda! I fought that battle long before I knew you. There +is absolutely no danger of my reverting. I am going to spend the rest +of my life among the whites even if you shouldn't marry me, Rhoda. +Rhoda, I wish I had had time to let you grow to it fully!" + +Rhoda stood rigidly. Molly, sensing trouble, hovered restlessly just +out of earshot. + +"If you married DeWitt," Kut-le went on, "could you forget me? Forget +the desert? Forget our days and nights? Forget my arms about you?" + +"Oh, no! No!" cried Rhoda. "You know that I shall love you always!" + +"And will DeWitt want what you offer him?" Kut-le went on, mercilessly. + +Rhoda winced. + +"I wish," said Kut-le huskily, "you never will know how I wish that you +had come to me freely, feeling that the sacrifice was worth while!" + +Rhoda looked at him wonderingly. After all the weeks of iron +determination, was the young giant weakening, was his great heart +failing him! + +"I had thought," he went on, "that you were big enough to stand the +test. That after the travail and the heart scourging, you would +see--and would come to me freely--strong enough to smile at all your +regrets and fears. That thought steeled me to put you through the +torture. But if now, at the end, you are coming to me only because you +must! Rhoda, I don't want you on those terms." + +Rhoda gasped. She felt as one feels when in a dream one falls an +unexpected and endless distance. The relief from the pressure of +Kut-le's will that had forced her on, for so long, left her weak and +aimless. + +Yet somehow she found the strength to say: + +"Kut-le, we must give each other up! I love you so that I can let you +go! Oh, can't you see how I feel about it!" + +Again Kut-le looked far off over vista of mountains and canon. His +eyes were deep and abstracted, as if he saw into the years ahead with +knowledge denied to Rhoda. Then he turned to Rhoda and searched her +face with burning gaze. He eyed her hair, her lovely heart-broken +face, her slender figure. For a moment his face was tortured by a look +of doubt that was heart-shattering. He lifted Rhoda across his chest +in the old way and held her to him with passionate tenderness. He laid +his face against hers and she heard him whisper: + +"O my love! Love of my youth and my manhood!" Then he set her very +gently to her feet. "Don't cry," he said. "I can't bear it!" + +Rhoda threw her arms above her head in an abandonment of agony. + +"Oh, I cannot, cannot bear this!" Then she added more calmly: "I +suffer as much as you, Kut-le!" + +Again the look of unspeakable grief crossed the young Indian's face, +but it immediately became inscrutable. He led Rhoda along the canon +edge. + +"Do you see that little trail going down?" he said. + +"Yes," said Rhoda wonderingly. + +"Then go!" said Kut-le quietly. + +Rhoda looked up at him blankly. + +"Go!" he said sternly. "Go back to your own kind and I will go on, +alone. Don't stop to talk any more. Go now!" + +Rhoda turned and looked at Cesca squatting by the horses, at Molly +hovering near by with anxious eyes. Never to make the dawn camp, +again--never to hear Molly humming over the stew-pot! Suddenly Rhoda +felt that if she could have Molly with her she would not be so utterly +separated from Kut-le. + +"Let Molly go with me!" she said. "I love Molly!" + +"No!" said Kut-le. "You are to forget the desert and the Indians. Go +now!" + +With awe and grief too deep for words, Rhoda obeyed the young chief's +stern eyes. She clambered down the rough trail to a break in the canon +wall, then, clinging with hands and feet, down the sheer side. The +tall figure, beautiful in its perfect symmetry, stood immovable, the +face never turning from her. Rhoda knew that she never was to forget +this picture of him. At the foot of the canon wall she stood long, +looking up. Far, far above, the straight figure stood in lonely +majesty, gazing at the life for which he had sacrificed so much. Rhoda +looked until, tear-blinded, she turned away. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE END OF THE TRAIL + +The canon was sandy and rough. Rhoda could see the monastery set among +olive-trees. Beyond this where the canon opened to the desert she knew +that the white men's camp lay, though she could not see it. + +She had no fear of losing her way, with the canon walls hemming her in. +She still was sobbing softly to herself as she started along the foot +of the wall. She tramped steadily for a time, then she stopped +abruptly. She would not go on! The sacrifice was too much! She +looked back to the canon top. Kut-le had disappeared. Already he must +be only a memory to her! + +Then of a sudden Rhoda felt a sense of shame that her strength of +purpose should be so much less than the Indian's. At least, she could +carry in her heart forever the example of his fortitude. It would be +like his warm hand guiding and lifting her through the hard days and +years to come. Strangely comforted and strengthened by this thought, +Rhoda started on through the familiar wilderness of the desert. + +This, she thought, was her last moment alone in the desert, for without +Kut-le she would never return to it. She watched the gray-green cactus +against the painted rock heaps. She watched the brown, tortured crest +of the canon against the violet sky. She watched the melting haze +above the monastery, the buzzards sliding through the motionless air, +the far multi-colored ranges, as if she would etch forever on her +memory the world that Kut-le loved. And she knew that, let her body +wander where it must, her spirit would forever belong to the desert. + +Rhoda passed the monastery, where she thought she saw men among the +olive-trees. But she did not stop. She gradually worked out into an +easy trail that led toward the open desert. + +The little camp at the canon's mouth was preparing to move when Jack +Newman jumped excitedly to his feet. Coming toward them through the +sand was a boyish figure that moved with a beautiful stride, tireless +and swift. As the newcomer drew nearer they saw that she was erect and +lithe, slender but full-chested and that her face-- + +"Rhoda!" shouted John DeWitt. + +In a moment, Jack was grasping one of her hands and John DeWitt the +other, while Billy Porter and Carlos shook each other's hands excitedly. + +"Gee whiz!" cried Jack. "John said you were in superb condition, but I +didn't realize that it meant this! Why, Rhoda, if it wasn't for your +hair and eyes and the dimple in your chin, I wouldn't know you!" + +"Are you all right?" asked DeWitt anxiously. "Where in the world did +you come from? Where have you been?" + +"Were you hurt much in the fight?" cried Rhoda. "Oh!" looking about at +the eager listeners, "that was the most awful thing I ever saw, that +fight! And Billy Porter, you are all right, I see. How shall I ever +repay you all for what you have done for me!" + +"Gosh!" exclaimed Porter. "I'm repaid just by looking at you! If that +pison Piute hasn't made monkeys of us all, I'd like to know who has! +How did you get away from him?" + +"He let me go," answered Rhoda simply. + +The men gasped. + +"What was the matter with him!" ejaculated Porter, "Was he sick or +dying?" + +"No," said Rhoda mechanically; "I guess he saw that it was useless." + +"And he dropped you in the desert without water or food or horse!" +cried DeWitt. "Oh, that Apache cur!" + +"No! No!" exclaimed Rhoda. "He dropped me not far from here. We saw +the camp and he sent me to it." + +The men looked at each other incredulously. Jack Newman's face was +puzzled. He knew Kut-le and it was hard to believe that he would give +up what he already had won. DeWitt spoke excitedly. + +"Then he's still within our reach! Hurry up, friends!" + +Rhoda turned swiftly to the gaunt-faced man. Then she spoke very +distinctly, with that in her deep gray eyes that stirred each listener +with a vague sense of loss and yearning. + +"I don't want Kut-le harmed! I shan't tell you anything that will help +you locate him. He did me no harm. On the contrary, he made me a well +woman, physically and mentally. If I can forgive his effrontery in +stealing me, surely you all will grant me this favor to top all that +you have done for me." + +Porter's under lip protruded with the old obstinate look. + +"That fellow's got to be made an example of, Miss Rhoda," he said. "No +white that's a man can stand for what he's done. He's bound to be +hunted down, you know. If we don't, others will!" + +Rhoda turned impatiently to DeWitt. + +"John, after all our talk, you must understand! You know what good +Kut-le has done me and how big it was of him to let me go. Make them +promise to let him alone!" + +But there was no answering look of understanding in DeWitt's worn face. + +"Rhoda, you haven't any idea what you're asking! It isn't a question +of forgiveness! You don't get the point of view that you ought! Why, +the whole country is worked up over this thing! The newspapers are +full of it. Just as Porter says, the Apache's got to be made an +example of. We will hunt him down, if it takes a year!" + +So far Jack Newman had said nothing. Rhoda looked at him as if he were +her last hope. + +"Oh, Jack!" she cried. "He was your friend, your dearest friend! And +he sent me back! Why, you never would have got me if he hadn't +voluntarily let me go! He is wonderful on the trail!" + +"So we found!" said DeWitt grimly. + +But Rhoda was watching Jack. + +"Rhoda," Jack said at last, "I know how you feel. I know what a bully +chap Kut-le is. This just about does me up. But what he's done can't +be let go. We've got to punish him!" + +"'Punish him!'" repeated Rhoda. "Just what do you mean by that?" + +"We mean," answered DeWitt, "that when we find him, I'll shoot him!" + +"No!" cried Rhoda. "No! Why he _sent me back_!" + +The three men looked at Rhoda uncomfortably and at each other +wonderingly. A woman's magnanimity is never to be understood by a man! + +"Are you tired, Rhoda?" asked DeWitt abruptly. "Do you feel able to +take to the saddle at once?" + +"I'm all right!" exclaimed Rhoda impatiently. "What are your plans?" + +DeWitt pointed out across the sand to the canon wall. A line of +slender footprints led through the level wastes as plainly as if on +new-fallen snow. + +"We will follow your trail," he said. + +There was silence for an instant in the little camp while the men eyed +the girlish face, flushed and vivid beneath the tan. As it had come +when DeWitt had rescued her, the old sense of the appalling nature of +her experience was returning to her again. With sickening clarity she +was getting the men's view-point. The old Rhoda would have protested, +would have fought desperately and blindly. The new Rhoda had lived +through hours of hopeless battle with circumstance. She had learned +the desert's lesson of patience. + +"I have thought," she said slowly, "so much of the joy of my return to +you! God only knows how the picture of it has kept me alive from day +to day. All _your_ joy seems swallowed up in your thirst for revenge. +All right, my friends. Only, wherever you go, I go too!" + +Billy Porter shook his head with a muttered "Gosh!" as if the ways of +women were quite beyond him. + +"I think you had better ride on to the ranch with Carlos," said DeWitt, +"while we take up Kut-le's trail. This will be no trip for a woman." + +"You're foolish!" exclaimed Jack. "We'll not let her out of our sight +again. You can't tell what stunt Kut-le is up to!" + +"That's right!" said Porter. "It'll be hard on her, but she'd better +come with us." + +"Don't trouble to discuss the matter," said Rhoda coolly. "I am coming +with you. Katherine probably sent some clothing for me, didn't she?" + +"Why, yes!" exclaimed Jack. "That was one of the first things she +thought of. She sent her own riding things for you. She spoke of the +little silk dress you had on and said you hadn't anything appropriate +in your trunks for the rough trip you might have to take after we found +you." + +Jack was talking rapidly, as if to relieve the tension of the +situation. He undid a pack that he had kept tied to his saddle during +all the long weeks of pursuit. + +"We can rig up a dressing-room of blankets in no time," he went on, +putting a bundle into Rhoda's hands. + +Rhoda stood holding the bundle in silence while all hands set to +rigging up her dressing-room. She felt suddenly cool-headed and +resourceful. Her mind was forced away from her own sorrow to the +solution of another heavy problem. In the little blanket tent she +unrolled the bundle and smiled tenderly at the evidence of Katherine's +thoughtfulness. There were underwear, handkerchiefs, toilet articles +and Katherine's own pretty corduroy divided skirt and Norfolk jacket +with a little blouse and Ascot scarf. + +Rhoda took off her buckskins and tattered blue shirt slowly, with lips +that would quiver. This was the last, the very last of Kut-le! She +dressed herself in Katherine's clothes, then folded up the buckskins +and shirt. She would keep them, always! When she came out from the +tent she stepped awkwardly, for the skirts bothered her, and Jack, +waiting nearby, smiled at her. At another time Rhoda would have joined +in his amusement, but now she asked soberly: + +"Which horse is for me?" + +"Rhoda!" cried DeWitt, "I really wouldn't know you! I thought I never +could want you anything but ethereal, but--Jack! Isn't she wonderful!" + +Jack grinned. Rhoda, tanned and oval-cheeked, and straight of back and +shoulder, was not to be compared with the invalid Rhoda. + +"Gee!" he said. "Wait till Katherine sees her!" + +Rhoda shrugged her shoulders. + +"My pleasure in all that is swallowed up by this savage obsession of +yours." + +John DeWitt led out Rhoda's pony. + +"You don't understand, dear," he said. "You can't doubt my heavenly +joy at having you safe. But the outrage of it all-- That Apache +devil!" + +"I do understand, John," answered Rhoda wearily. "Don't try to explain +again. I know just how you all feel. Only, I will not have Kut-le +killed." + +"Rhoda," said DeWitt hoarsely, "I shall kill him as I would a yellow +dog!" + +Rhoda turned away. The line of march was quickly formed. Porter led. +Carlos closed the rear. DeWitt and Newman rode on either side of +Rhoda. They were not long in reaching the trail down the canon wall. +Here they paused, for the rough ascent was impossible for the horses. +The men looked questioningly at Rhoda but she volunteered no +information. She believed that Kut-le had left the camp at the top +long since. If for any reason he had delayed his going, she knew that +he had watched every movement in the white camp and could protect +himself easily. + +"We can leave Carlos with the horses," said Porter, "while we climb up +and see where the trail leads." + +Rhoda dismounted, still silent, and followed Porter and DeWitt up the +trail. Jack following her. The trail had been difficult to descend +and was very hard to ascend. There was a dumb purposefulness about the +men's movements that sickened Rhoda. She had seen too much of men in +this mood of late and she feared them, She knew that all the amenities +of civilization had been stripped from them and that she was only +pitting her feeble strength against a world-old instinct. + +Her heart was beating heavily as they neared the top, but not from the +hard climb. She was inured to difficult trails. There was a sheer +pull, shoulder high, at the top. The four accomplished it in one +breathless group, then stood as if paralyzed. + +Sunlight flickered through the pines. Molly and Cesca prepared the +trail packs. And Kut-le sat beside the spring, eying his visitors +grimly. He looked very cool and well groomed in comparison with his +trail-worn adversaries. + +DeWitt pulled out his Colt. + +"I think I have you, this time," he said. + +"Yes?" asked Kut-le, without stirring. "And what are you going to do +with me?" + +"I'm going to take about a minute to tell you what I think of you, and +give you another minute in which to offer up some sort of an Indian +prayer. Then I'm going to shoot you!" + +Kut-le glanced from DeWitt to Rhoda, thence to Porter and Newman. +Porter's under lip protruded. Jack looked sick. Both the men had +their hands on their guns. Rhoda moistened her lips to speak, but +Kut-le was before her. + +"Are you a good shot, DeWitt?" he asked. "Because I know that Jack and +Porter are sure in their aim." + +"You'll never know whether I am or not," replied DeWitt. "You'd better +be thankful that we are shooting you instead of hanging you, as you +deserve, you cur! You'd better be glad you're dying! You haven't a +white friend left in the country! All your ambition and hard work have +come to this because you couldn't change your Indian hide, after all! +Now then, say your prayers! Rhoda, cover up your eyes!" + +Kut-le rose slowly. The whites noticed with a little pang of shame +that he made no attempt to touch his gun which lay on the ground beside +him. + +"You'd better let Jack and Billy shoot with you," he said quietly. +"You won't like to think about the shot that killed me, afterward. It +isn't nice, I've heard, the memory of killing a man!" + +"I'm shooting an Indian, not a man!" said DeWitt. "Say your prayers!" + +The spell of fear that had paralyzed Rhoda snapped. Before Jack or +Billy could detain her she ran to DeWitt's side and grasped his arm. + +"John! John! Listen to me, one moment! Look at me! In spite of all, +look, see what he's made of me, for you to reap the harvest! Look at +me! I beg of you, do not shoot him! Let him go! Make him promise to +leave the country. Make him promise anything! He keeps promises +because he is an Indian! But if you have any love for me, if you care +anything for my happiness, don't kill Kut-le! I tell you I will never +marry you with his blood on your hands!" + +A look curiously hard, curiously suspicious, came to DeWitt's eyes. +Without lowering his gun or looking at the girl, he answered: + +"You plead too well, Rhoda! I want this Indian to pay for more torture +of mine than you can dream of! Get back out of the way! Are you +ready, Kut-le?" + +Rhoda's slender body was rigid. She moved away from DeWitt until she +could encompass the four men in her glance. With arms folded across +her arching chest she spoke with a richness in her voice that none of +her hearers ever could forget. + +"Remember, friends, you have forced me to this! You had me safe, but +you thought more of revenge than you did of my safety! John, if you +kill Kut-le you will kill the man that I love with all the passion of +my soul!" + +DeWitt gasped as if he had been struck. Newman and Porter stared +dizzily. Only Kut-le stood composed. His eyes with the old look of +tragic tenderness were fastened on the girl. + +"Are you going to shoot him now, John?" + +"Rhoda!" cried DeWitt fiercely. "Rhoda! Do you realize what you are +saying?" + +"Yes," said Rhoda steadily. "I realize that a force greater than race +pride, greater than self love, greater than intelligence or fear, is +gripping me! John, I love this man! He and I have lived through +experiences together too great for words. He had me in the hollow of +his hand but he sent me back to you, his enemy. You say that you love +me. But you would not listen to my pleading, you would not grant me +the only favor I ever asked you, the granting of which could not have +harmed you." + +Her listeners did not stir. Rhoda moistened her lips. + +"Kut-le---- Think what he sacrificed for me. He gave up his dearest +friendships. He gave up his honor and his country and risked his life, +for me. And then when he thought the sacrifice would prove too great +on my part, he gave me up! I ask you to give him his life, for me. +Because, John, and Billy Porter, and Jack, I tell you that I love him!" + +"My God!" panted DeWitt. "Rhoda, don't! You don't know what you're +saying! Rhoda!" + +Rhoda looked off where the afternoon sun lay like the very glory of God +upon the chaos of range and desert. Almost--almost the secret of life +itself seemed to bare itself to the girl's wide eyes. The white men +watched her aghast. There was a desperate, hunted look in DeWitt's +tired face. Rhoda turned back. + +"I know what I'm saying," she replied. "But I tell you that this thing +is bigger than I am! I have fought it, defied it, ignored it. It only +grows the stronger! I know that this comes to humans but rarely. Yet +it has come to me! It is the greatest force in the world! It is what +makes life persist! To most people it comes only in small degree and +they call that love! To me, in this boundless country, it has come +boundlessly. It is greater than what you know as love. It is greater +than I am. I don't know what sorrow or what joy my decision may bring +me but--John, I want you to let Kut-le live that I may marry him!" + +DeWitt's arm dropped as if dead. + +"Rhoda," he repeated, agonizedly, "you don't know what you are saying!" + +"Don't I?" asked Rhoda steadily. "Have I fought my fight without +coming to know the risk? Don't I know what atavism means, and race +alienation, and hunger for my own? But this which has come to me is +stronger than all these. I love Kut-le, John, and I ask you to give +his life to me!" + +Still Kut-le stood motionless, as did Jack and Porter. DeWitt, without +taking his eyes from Rhoda's, slowly, very slowly, slipped his Colt +back into his belt. For a long moment he gazed at the wonder of the +girl's exalted face. Then he passed his hands across his eyes. + +"I give up!" he said quietly. Then he turned, walked slowly to the +canon edge, and clambered deliberately down the trail. + +Jack and Billy stood dazed for a moment longer, then Porter cleared his +throat. + +"Miss Rhoda, don't do this! Now don't you! Come with us back to the +ranch. Just for a month till you get away from this Injun's influence! +Come back and talk to Mrs. Newman. Come back and get some other +woman's ideas! For God's sake, Miss Rhoda, don't ruin your life this +way!" + +"When Katherine knows it all, she'll understand and agree with me," +replied Rhoda. "Jack, try to remember everything I said, to tell +Katherine." + +"_I_ tell her!" cried Jack. "Why can't you tell her yourself? What +are you planning to do?" + +"That is for Kut-le to say," answered Rhoda. + +"Rhoda," said Jack, and his voice shook with earnestness, "listen! +Listen to me, your old playmate! I know how fascinating Kut-le is. +Lord help us, girl, he's been my best friend for years! And in spite +of everything, he's my friend still. But, Rhoda, it won't do! It +won't work out right. He's a fine man for men. But as a husband to a +white woman, he's still an Indian; and after the first, that must +always come between you! Think again, Rhoda! I tell you, it won't do!" + +Rhoda's voice still was clear and high, still bore the note of +exaltation. + +"I have thought again and again, Jack. There could be no end to the +thinking, so I gave it up!" + +Kut-le's eyes were on the girl, inscrutable and calm as the desert +itself, but still he did not speak. + +Billy Porter wiped his forehead again and again on a cloth that bore no +resemblance to a handkerchief. + +"I can't put up any kind of an argument. All I can say is I don't see +how any one like you could do it, Miss Rhoda! Just think! His folks +is Injuns, dirty, blanket Injuns! They scratch themselves from one +day's end to the other. They will be your relatives, too! They'll be +hanging round you all the time. I'm not a married man but I've noticed +when you marry a man you generally marry his whole darn family. +I--I--oh, there's no use talking to her! Let's take her away by force, +Jack!" + +Rhoda caught her breath and instinctively moved toward Kut-le. But +Jack did not stir. + +"No," he answered; "I've done all the chasing and trying to kidnap that +I care about. But, Rhoda, once and for all I tell you that I think you +are doing you and yours a deadly wrong!" + +"Perhaps I am," replied Rhoda steadily. "I make no pretense of +knowing. At any rate, I'm going to stay with Kut-le." + +"For heaven's sake, Rhoda," cried Jack, "at least come back to the +ranch and let Katherine give you a wedding. She'll never forgive me +for leaving you this way!" + +Porter turned on Jack savagely. + +"Look here!" he shouted. "Are you crazy too! You're talking about her +_marrying_ this Apache!" + +Jack spoke through his teeth obstinately. + +"I've sweated blood over this thing as long as I propose to. If Rhoda +wants to marry Kut-le, that's her business. I always did like Kut-le +and I always shall. I've done my full duty in trying to get Rhoda +back. Now that she says that she cares for him, it's neither your nor +my business--nor DeWitt's. But I want them to come back to the ranch +with me and let Katherine give them a nice wedding." + +"But--but--" spluttered Porter. Then he stopped as the good sense of +Jack's attitude suddenly came home to him. "All right," he said +sullenly. "I'm like DeWitt. I pass. Only--if you try to take this +Injun back to the ranch, he'll never get there alive. He'll be lynched +by the first bunch of cowboys or miners we strike. Miss Rhoda nor you +can't stop 'em. You want to remember how the whole country is worked +up over this!" + +Rhoda whitened. + +"Do you think that too, Jack and Kut-le?" + +For the first time, Jack spoke to Kut-le. + +"What do you think, Kut-le?" he said. + +"Porter's right, of course," answered Kut-le. "My plan always has been +to slip down into Mexico and then go to Paris for a year or two. I've +got enough money for that. I've always wanted to do some work in the +Sorbonne. By the end of two years I think the Southwest will be +willing to welcome us back." + +Nothing could have so simplified the situation as Kut-le's calm +reference to his plans for carrying on his profession. He stood in his +well-cut clothes, not an Indian, but a well-bred, clean-cut man of the +world. Even Porter recognized this, and with a sigh he resigned +himself to the inevitable. + +"You folks better come down to the monastery and be married," he said. +"There's a padre down there." + +"Gee! What'll I say to Katherine!" groaned Jack. + +"Katherine will understand," said Rhoda. "Katherine always loved +Kut-le. Even now I can't believe that she has altogether turned +against him." + +Jack Newman heaved a sigh. + +"Well," he said, "Kut-le, will you and Rhoda come down to the monastery +with us and be married?" His young niece was solemn. + +"Yes," answered Kut-le, "if Rhoda is agreed." + +Rhoda's face still wore the look of exaltation. + +"I will come!" she said. + +Kut-le did not let his glance rest on her, but turned to Billy. + +"Mr. Porter," he said courteously, "will you come to my wedding?" + +Billy looked dazed. He stared from Kut-le to Rhoda, and Rhoda smiled +at him. His last defense was down. + +"I'll be there, thanks!" he said. + +"There is a side trail that we can take my horses down," said Kut-le. + +They all were silent as Kut-le led the way down the side trail and by a +circuitous path to the monastery. He made his way up through a rude, +grass-grown path to a cloistered front that was in fairly good repair. +Here they dismounted and waited while Kut-le pulled a long bell-rope +that hung beside a battered door. There was not long to wait before +the door opened and a white-faced old padre stood staring in amazement +at the little group. + +Kut-le talked rapidly, now in Spanish and now in English, and at last +the padre turned to Rhoda with a smile. + +"And you?" he asked. "You are quite willing?" + +"Yes," said Rhoda, though her voice trembled in spite of her. + +"And you?" asked the padre, turning to Jack and Billy. + +The two men nodded. + +"Then enter!" said the padre. + +And with Cesca and Molly bringing up the rear, the wedding party +followed the padre down a long adobe hallway across a courtyard where +palms still shaded a trickling fountain, into a dim chapel, with grim +adobe walls and pews hacked and worn by centuries of use. + +The padre was excited and pleased. + +"If," he said, "you all will sit, I will call my two choir-boys who are +at work in the olive orchard. They are not far away. We are always +ready to hold service for such as may wish to attend." + +He disappeared through the door of the choir loft and returned shortly, +followed by two tall Mexican half-breeds, clad in priceless surplices +that had been wrought in Spain two centuries before. They lighted some +meager candles before the altar and began their chant in soft, +well-trained voices. + +The padre turned and waited. Kut-le rose and, taking Rhoda's hand, he +led her before the aged priest. + +To the two white men the scene was unforgetable. The dim old chapel, +scene of who could tell what heart-burnings of desert history; the +priest of the ancient religion; standing before him the two young +people, one of a vanishing and one of a conquering race, both +startlingly vivid in the perfection of their beauty; and, looking on, +the two wide-eyed squaws with aboriginal wonder in their eyes. + +It was but a moment before Kut-le had slipped a ring on Rhoda's finger; +but a moment before the priest had pronounced them man and wife. + +As the two left the priest, Jack kissed Rhoda solemnly twice. + +"Once for Katherine," he said, "and once for me. I don't understand +much how it all has come about, but I know Kut-le, and I'm willing to +trust you to him." + +Kut-le gave Jack a clear look. + +"Jack, I'll never forget that speech. If I live long enough, I'll +repay you for it." + +"And an Indian keeps his promises," said Rhoda softly. + +Billy Porter was not to be outdone. + +"Now that it's all over with, I'll say that Kut-le is a good fighter +and that you are the handsomest couple I ever saw." + +Kut-le chuckled. + +"Cesca, am I such a heap fool?" + +Cesca sniffed. + +"White squaws no good! They--" + +But Molly elbowed Cesca aside. + +"You no listen to her!" she said. + +"O Molly! Molly!" cried Rhoda. "You are a woman! I'm glad you were +here!" And the men's eyes blurred a little as the Indian woman hugged +the white girl to her and crooned over her. + +"You no cry! You no cry! When you come back, Molly come to your +house, take care of you!" + +After a moment Rhoda wiped her eyes, and Kut-le, who had been giving +the old padre something that the old fellow eyed with joy, took the +girl's hand gently. + +"Come!" he said. + +At the door the others watched them mount and ride away. The two sat +their horses with the grace that comes of long, hard trails. + +"Maybe I've done wrong," said Jack. "But I don't feel so. I'm awful +sorry for DeWitt." + +"I'm awful sorry for DeWitt," agreed Porter, "but I'm sorrier for +myself. I'm older than DeWitt a whole lot. He's young enough to get +over anything." + +When they had ridden out of sight of the monastery, Kut-le pulled in +his horse and dismounted. Then he stood looking up into Rhoda's face. +In his eyes was the same look of exaltation that made hers wonderful. +He put his hand on her knee. + +"We've a long ride ahead of us," he said softly. "I want something +that I can't have on horseback." + +Rhoda laid her hand on his. + +"You meant it all, Rhoda? It was not only to save my life?" + +"Do you have to ask that?" said Rhoda. + +"No!" answered Kut-le simply. "You see I waited for you. I knew that +they would bring you back. And if you had not spoken, I would rather +have died. I had made up my mind to that. O my love! It has come to +us greatly!" + +Then, as if the flood, controlled all these months, had burst its +bonds, Kut-le lifted Rhoda from her saddle to his arms and laid his +lips to hers. For a long moment the two clung to each other as if they +knew that life could hold no moment for them so sweet as this. Then +they mounted and, side by side, they rode off into the desert sunset. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HEART OF THE DESERT*** + + +******* This file should be named 16777.txt or 16777.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/7/7/16777 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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