It was not long before the girl's scant strength was gone, and when
after a mad scramble she fell from a boulder to the ground, she was too
done up to rise. She lay face to the stars, half sobbing with
excitement and disappointment. After a time, however, the sobs ceased
and she lay thinking. She knew now that until she was inured to the
desert and had a working knowledge of its ways, escape was impossible.
She must bide her time and wait for her friends to rescue her. She had
no idea how far she had come from the Indian camp. Whether or not
Kut-le could find her again she could not guess. If he did not, then
unless a white stumbled on her she must die in the desert. Well then,
let it be so! The old lethargy closed in on her and she lay motionless
and hopeless.

From all sides she heard the night howls of the coyote packs circling
nearer and nearer. Nothing could more perfectly interpret the horrible
desolation of the desert, Rhoda thought, than the demoniacal,
long-drawn laughter of the coyote. How long she lay she neither knew
nor cared. But just as she fancied that the coyotes had drawn so near
that she could hear their footsteps, a hand was laid on her arm.

"Have you had enough, Rhoda?" asked Kut-le.

"No!" shuddered Rhoda. "I'd rather die here!"

The Indian laughed softly as he lifted her from the ground.

"A good hater makes a good lover, Rhoda," he said. "I wish I'd had
time to let you learn your lesson more thoroughly. I haven't been
twenty-five feet away from you since you left the camp. I wanted you