squaws sat gaping.

"Well!" exclaimed Kut-le. "What can we do for you, Jim?"

The stranger, a rough tramp-like fellow in tattered overalls, wiped his
face, on which was a week's stubble.

"I'd always thought you was about white, Cartwell," he said, "but I see
you're no better than the rest of them. What are you going to do with
me?"

Kut-le eyed his unbidden guest speculatively.

"Well, we'll have something to eat first. I don't like to think on an
empty stomach. Come over to my blanket and sit down, Jim."

Ignoring Rhoda, who was watching him closely, Kut-le seated himself on
his blanket beside Jim and offered him a cigarette, which was refused.

"I don't want no favors from you, Cartwell." His voice was surly.
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. "You
take my advice and let me take the girl back to her friends and you
make tracks down into Mexico as fast as the Lord'll let you."

Kut-le shifted the Navajo that hung over his naked shoulders. He gave
a short laugh that Rhoda had never heard from him before.