A pair of jack-rabbits loped up the trail, sniffed the air tentatively, then with forelegs in the water drank greedily. DeWitt's right arm stiffened, there were two puffs of smoke and the two kicking rabbits rolled into the spring.

"I'm beginning to have a little self-respect as the man of the party,"

said DeWitt, as he blew the smoke from his Colt.

Rhoda ran down to the spring and lifted the two wet little bodies.

John took them from her.

"If you'll find some place for a table, I'll bring these up in no time."

When DeWitt came up from the spring with the dressed rabbits, he found a little fire glowing between two rocks. Near by on a big flat-topped stone were set forth two earthen bowls, with a brown water-jar in the center. As he stared, Rhoda came out of the building with interested face.

"Look, John! See what I found on a little corner shelf!" She held in her outstretched hand a tiny jar no bigger than a wine-gla.s.s. It was of an exquisitely polished black. "Not even an explorer can have been here, or nothing so perfect as this would have been left! What hands do you suppose made this!"

But DeWitt did not answer her question.

"Now, look here, Rhoda, you aren't to do anything like starting a fire and lugging these heavy jars again! You're not with the Indians now.

You've got a man to wait on you!"

Rhoda looked at him curiously.

"But I've learned to like to do it!" she protested. "n.o.body can roast a rabbit to suit me but myself," and in spite of DeWitt's protests she spitted the rabbits and would not let him tend the fire which she said was too fine an art for his untrained hands. In a short time the rich odor of roasting flesh rose on the air and John watched the pretty cook with admiration mingled with perplexity. Rhoda insisting on cooking a meal! More than that, Rhoda evidently enjoying the job! The idea left him speechless.

An hour after Rhoda had spitted the game, John sighed with contentment as he looked at the pile of bones beside his earthen bowl.

"And they say jacks aren't good eating!" he said. "Why if they had been salted they would have been better than any game I ever ate!"

"You never were so hungry before," said Rhoda. "Still, they were well roasted, now weren't they?"

"Your vanity is colossal, Miss Tuttle," laughed John, "but I will admit that I never saw better roasting." Then he said soberly, "I believe we had better not try the trail again today, Rhoda dear. We don't know where to go and we've no supplies. We'd better get our strength up, resting here today, and tomorrow start in good shape."

Rhoda looked wistfully from the shade of the pueblo out over the desert. She had become very, very tired of this endless fleeing.

"I wish the Newman ranch was just over beyond," she said. "John, what will you do if Kut-le comes on us here?"

DeWitt's forehead burned a painful red.

"I have a shot left in my revolver," he said.

Rhoda walked ever to John and put one hand on his shoulder as he sat looking up at her with somber blue eyes.

"John," she said, "I want you to promise me that you will fire at Kut-le only in the last extremity to keep him from carrying me off, and that you will shoot only as Porter did, to lame and not to kill."

John's jaws came together and he returned the girl's scrutiny with a steel-like glance.

"Why do you plead for him?" he asked finally.

"He saved my life," she answered simply.

John rose and walked up and down restlessly.

"Rhoda, if a white man had done this thing I would shoot him as I would a dog. What do I care for a law in a case like this! We were men long before we had laws. Why should this Indian be let go when he has done what a white would be shot for?"

Rhoda looked at him keenly.

"You talk as if in your heart you knew you were going to kill him because he is an Indian and were trying to justify yourself for it!"

He turned on the girl a look so haunted, so miserable, yet so determined, that her heart sank. For a time there was silence, each afraid to speak. At last Rhoda said coolly:

"Will you get fresh water while I bank in the fire?"

DeWitt's face relaxed. He smiled a little grimly.

"I'll do anything for you but that one thing--promise not to kill the Indian."

"The desert has changed us both, John," said Rhoda. "It has taken the veneer off both of us!"

"Maybe so," replied DeWitt. "I only know that that Apache must pay for the h.e.l.l you and I have lived through."

"Look at me, John!" cried Rhoda. "Can't you realize that the good Kut-le has done me has been far greater than his affront to me? Do you see how well I am, how strong? Oh, if I could only make you see what a different world I live in! You would have been tied to an invalid, John, if Kut-le hadn't stolen me! Think now of all I can do for you!

Of the home I can make, of the work I can do!"

DeWitt answered tersely.

"I'm mighty glad you're well, but only for your own sake and because I can have you longer. I don't want you to work for me. I'll do all the working that's done in our family!"

"But," protested Rhoda, "that's just keeping me lazy and selfish!"

"You couldn't be selfish if you tried. You pay your way with your beauty. When I think of that Apache devil having the joy of you all this time, watching you grow back to health, taking care of you, carrying you, it makes me feel like a cave man. I could kill him with a club! Thank heaven, the lynch law can hold in this forsaken spot!

And there isn't a man in the country but will back me up, not a jury that would find me guilty!"

Rhoda sat in utter consternation. The power of the desert to lay bare the human soul appalled her. This was a DeWitt that the East never could have shown her. It sickened her as she realized that no words of hers could sway this man; to realize that she was trying to stay with her feeble feminine hands pa.s.sions that were as old a world-force as love itself. All her new-found strength seemed inadequate to solve this new problem.

CHAPTER XIX

THE TRAIL AGAIN

For a long time Rhoda sat silently considering her problem and John watched her soberly. Finally she turned to speak. As she did so, she caught on the young man's face a look so weary, so puzzled, so altogether wretched that the girl's heart smote her. This was indeed a poor return for what he had endured for her! Rhoda jumped to her feet with resolution in her eyes. "Are you too tired to explore the ruins?"

she asked. DeWitt rose languidly. Rhoda had responded at once to rest and food but John would need a month of care and quiet in which to regain his strength.

"I'll do anything you want me to--in that line!"

Rhoda carefully ignored the last phrase.

"Even if we're half dead, it's too bad to miss the opportunity to examine such a wonderful thing as this. You couldn't find as glorious a setting for a ruin anywhere in Europe."