trail and at every camp she tried to leave some mark for the whites--a
scratch on pebble or stone, a bit of marked yucca or a twisted
cat's-claw. She ceased entirely to speak to Kut-le, treating him with
a contemptuous silence that was torture to the Indian though he gave no
outward sign.

Molly was her devoted friend and Rhoda derived great comfort from this
faithful servitor. Rhoda sat in the camp one afternoon with the two
squaws while Kut-le and Alchise were off on a turkey hunt. Some of the
girl's pallor had given way to a delicate tan. The dark circles about
her eyes had lightened a little. Molly was busily pounding grass-seeds
between two stones. Rhoda watched her idly. Suddenly a new idea sent
the blood to her thin cheeks.

Why shouldn't she learn to make seed meal, to catch and cook rabbits,
to distinguish edible cactus from inedible? Then indeed she would be
able to care for herself on the trail! To Rhoda, who never had worked
with her hands, who indeed had come to look on manual labor as
belonging to inferiors, the idea was revolutionary. For a long time
she turned it over in her mind, watching Molly the while. The most
violent housewifely task that Rhoda ever had undertaken had been the
concocting of chafing-dish messes at school.

"Molly," she said suddenly, "teach me how to do that!"

Molly paused and grinned delightedly.

"All right! You come help poor Molly!"

With Cesca looking on sardonically, Molly poured fresh seeds on her