westering sun wakened her. She sat up stiffly. The squaws were
unpacking a burlap bag. They were greasy and dirty but they were women
and their nearness gave Rhoda a vague sense of protection. They in
turn gazed at the tangled glory of her hair, at the hopeless beauty of
her eyes, at the pathos of the drooping mouth, with unfeigned curiosity.

Kut-le still was watching the desert. The madness of the night before
had lifted a little, leaving Rhoda with some of her old poise. After
several attempts she rose and made her staggering way to Kut-le's side.

"Kut-le," she said, "perhaps you will tell me what you mean by this
outrage?"

The young Indian, turned to her. White and exhausted, heavy hair in
confusion, Rhoda still was lovely.

"You seem to have more interest in life," he said, "than you have had
since I have known you. I thought the experiment would have that
effect!"

"You brute!" cried Rhoda. "Can't you see how silly you are? You will
be caught and lynched before the day is passed."

Kut-le smiled.

"Pshaw! Three Apaches can outwit a hundred white men on the trail!"

Rhoda caught her breath.

"Oh, Kut-le, how could you do this thing! How could you! I am