disgrace!"

Kut-le eyed her speculatively.

"It's all race prejudice, you know. I have the education of the white
with the intelligence and physical perfection of the Indian; DeWitt is
nowhere near my equal."

Rhoda's eyes blazed.

"Don't speak of DeWitt! You're not fit to!"

"Yet," very quietly, "you said the other night that I had as good a
brain and was as attractive as any man of your acquaintance!"

"I was a fool!" exclaimed Rhoda.

Kut-le rose and took a stride or two up and down the ledge. Then he
folded his arms across his chest and stopped before Rhoda, who leaned
weakly against the boulder.

"I am going to tell you what my ideas are," he said. "You are
intelligent and will understand me no matter how bitter my words may
make you at first. Now look here. Lots of white men are in love with
you. Even Billy Porter went off his head. But I guess DeWitt is a
pretty fair sample of the type of men you drew, well educated, strong,
well-bred and Eastern to the backbone. And they love you as you are,
delicate, helpless, appealing, thoroughbred, but utterly useless!

"Except that they hate to see you suffer, they wouldn't want you to