are not his! Always I will be white and he Indian. He will get over
this craze for me and want one of his own kind. Molly, listen to your
heart! It must tell you white to the white, Indian to the Indian.
Dear, dear Molly, I want to go home!"

"No! No! Molly promise Kut-le to keep his white squaw for him.
Injuns they always keep promises. And Molly _sabe_ some day when you
learn more you be heap glad old Molly keep you for Kut-le."

Rhoda turned away with a sigh at the note of finality in Molly's voice.
Kut-le was climbing the trail toward the camp with a little pile of
provisions. So far he had not failed to procure when needed some sort
of rations--bacon, flour and coffee--though since her abduction Rhoda
had seen no human habitation, Cesca was preparing supper. She was
pounding a piece of meat on a flat stone, muttering to herself when a
piece fell to the ground. Sometimes she wiped the sand from the fallen
bit on her skirt. More often she flung it into the stew-pot unwiped.

"Cesca!" cried Rhoda, "do keep the burro out of the meat!" The burro
that Kut-le recently had acquired was sniffing at the meat.

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!"