One afternoon Kut-le sat alone on the veranda with Rhoda.

"Do you know," he said, rumpling his black hair, "that I think DeWitt
has decided that I will bear watching!"

"Well," answered Rhoda idly, "and won't you?"

Kut-le chuckled.

"Would you prefer that I show the lurking savage beneath this false
shell of good manners?"

Rhoda smiled back at him.

"Of course you are an Indian, after all. It's rather too bad of you
not to live up to any of our ideals. Your manners are as nice as John
DeWitt's. I'd be quite frantic about you if you would drop them and go
on the war-path."

Kut-le threw back his head and laughed.

"Oh, you ignorant young thing! It's lucky for you--and for me--that
you have come West to grow up and complete your education! But DeWitt
needn't worry. I don't need watching yet! First, I'm going to make
you well. I know how and he doesn't. After that is done, he'd better
watch!"

Rhoda's eyebrows began to go up. Kut-le never had recalled by word or
look her outburst in the desert the morning of their first ride
together, though they had taken several since. Rhoda seldom mentioned