Rhoda wrung her hands and groaned. Only to escape--to escape!
Suddenly turning, she ran down the track. Kut-le watched her,
motionless, until she had run perhaps a hundred yards, then with a few
mighty leaps he overtook her and gathered her to his great chest.
Moaning, Rhoda lay still.

"Dear," said Kut-le, "don't exert yourself foolishly. If you must
escape, lay your plans carefully. Use your brain. Don't act like a
child. I love you, Rhoda!"

"I loathe you! I loathe you!" whispered the girl.

"You don't--ah--" He stopped abruptly and set the girl on the ground.
They were standing beside a side-track near a desert water-tank. "I've
caught my foot in a switch-frog," muttered Kut-le, keeping his hold on
Rhoda with one hand while with the other he tugged at his moccasined
foot.

Rhoda stood rigid.

"I hear a train!" she cried. "O dear God, I hear a train!" Then, "The
other Indians are too far away to reach you before the train does," she
added calmly.

"But I'll never loose my grip on you," returned the Indian grimly.

He tore at the imprisoned foot, ripping the moccasin and tearing at the
road bed. The rails began to sing. Far down the track they saw a star
of light Rhoda's heart stood still. This, then, was to be the end!
After all the months of distant menace, death was to be upon her in a