her illness now and her friends respected her feeling. But now Kut-le
smiled at her disapproving brows.

"I've waited for the others to get busy," he said, "but they act
foolish. Half the trouble with you is mental. You need a boss. Now,
you don't eat enough, in spite of the eggs and beef and fruit that that
dear Mrs. Jack sets before you. See how your hands shake this minute!"

Rhoda could think of no reply sufficiently crushing for this forward
young Indian. While she was turning several over in her mind, Kut-le
went into the house and returned with a glass of milk.

"I wish you'd drink this," he said.

Rhoda's brows still were arched haughtily.

"No, thank you," she said frigidly; "I don't wish you to undertake the
care of my health."

Kut-le made no reply but held the glass steadily before her.
Involuntarily, Rhoda looked up. The young Indian was watching her with
eyes so clear, so tender, with that strange look of tragedy belying
their youth, with that something so compelling in their quiet depths,
that once more her tired pulses quickened. Rhoda looked from Kut-le
out to the twisting sand-whirls, then she took the glass of milk and
drank it. She would not have done this for any of the others and both
she and Kut-le knew it. Thereafter, he deliberately set himself to
watching her and it seemed as if he must exhaust his ingenuity devising
means for her comfort. Slowly Rhoda acquired a definite interest in
the young Indian.