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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.
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."
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.
"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.
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.
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.
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