wouldn't have been driven to this. I would have had an equal chance
with DeWitt and could have won easily. But I had all the prejudice
against my alien race to fight. There was but one thing to do: to take
you to the naked desert where you would be forced to see life as I see
it, where you would be forced to see me, the man, far from any false
standards of civilization."

Rhoda would have replied but Kut-le gave her no chance.

"I know what white conventions demand of me. But, I tell you, my love
is above them. I, not suffer! Rhoda! To see you in pain! To see
your loathing of me! To have you helpless in my arms and yet to keep
you safe! Rhoda! Rhoda! Do you believe I do not suffer?"

Anger died out of Rhoda. She saw tragedy in the situation, tragedy
that was not hers. She saw herself and Kut-le racially, not
individually. She saw Kut-le suffering all the helpless grief of race
alienation, saw him the victim of passions as great as the desires of
the alien races for the white always must be. Rhoda forgot herself.
She laid a slender hand on Kut-le's.

"I am sorry," she said softly. "I think I begin to understand. But,
Kut-le, it can never, never be! You are fighting a battle that was
lost when the white and Indian races were created. It can never, never
be, Kut-le."

The strong brown hand had closed over the small white one instantly.

"It must be!" he said hoarsely. "I put my whole life on it! It must
be!"