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Updated: May 8, 2025
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.
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.
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 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 "
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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!"
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