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Updated: September 2, 2025
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.
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?"
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.
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."
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."
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.
"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.
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.
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