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"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.
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.
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 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.
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.
"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.
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.
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 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!
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.
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