As soon as lunch was finished, camp was broken. All the rest of the
day and until toward midnight they wound up a wretched trail that
circled the mountain ranges, For hours, Kut-le did not speak to Rhoda.
These days of Rhoda's contempt were very hard on him. The touch of her
hand that morning, the old note in her voice, still thrilled him. At
midnight as they watched the squaws unroll her blankets, he touched her
shoulder.

"Dear," he said, in his rich voice, "it is in you to love me if only I
am patient. And--God, but it's worth all the starvation in the
meantime! Won't you say good-night to me, Rhoda?"

Rhoda looked at the stalwart figure in the firelight. The young eyes
so tragic in their youth, the beautiful mouth, sad in its firm curves,
were strangely appealing. Just for an instant the horrors of the past
weeks vanished.

"Good-night!" said Rhoda. Then she rolled herself in her blankets and
slept. By the next morning, however, the old repulsion had returned
and she made no response to Kut-le's overtures.

Day succeeded day now, until Rhoda lost all track of time. Endlessly
they crossed desert and mountain ridges. Endlessly they circled
through dusky cañon and sun-baked arroyo. Always Rhoda looked forward
to each new camping-place with excitement. Here, the rescuers might
stumble upon them! Always she started at each unexpected shadow along
the trail. Always she thrilled at a wisp of smokelike cloud beyond the
cañon edge. Always she felt a quiver of certainty at sudden break of
twig or fall of stone. But the days passed and gradually hope changed