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Updated: May 3, 2025
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.
"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.
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.
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?
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.
"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."
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?"
"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.
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.
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.
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