more than we take. And I believe that in the end it will seem to have
been worth while."

Rhoda made no answer. Kut-le ate on in silence for a time, then he
said wistfully:

"Don't you enjoy this meal with me, just a little?"

Rhoda glanced from Kut-le's naked body to her own torn clothing, then
at the crude meal.

"I don't enjoy it, no," she answered quietly.

Something in the quiet sincerity of the voice caused Kut-le to rise
abruptly and order the Indians to break camp. But on the trail that
night he rode close beside her whenever the way permitted and talked to
her of the beauty of the desert. 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? Try to put yourself in my place
for a moment! Can't you see how I love you? Can't you see that my
stealing was the only thing that I could do, loving you so? Wouldn't
you have done the same in my place? If I had been a white man I