The heart of the desert

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Title:TheHeartoftheDesert
Kut-LeoftheDesert
Author:HonoréWillsieMorrow
ReleaseDate:September30,2005[eBook#16777]
Language:English
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THEDESERT***

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Sidebyside,theyrodeoffintothedesertsunset.
[Frontispiece:Sidebyside,theyrodeoffintothedesertsunset.]


THEHEARTOFTHEDESERT
(KUT-LEOFTHEDESERT)

ByHONORÉWILLSIE

Authorof"StillJim"

WithFrontispieceInColors

ByV.HERBERTDUNTON

A.L.BURTCOMPANY,PUBLISHERS
114-120EastTwenty-thirdStreet——NewYork

PUBLISHEDBYARRANGEMENTWITHFREDERICKA.STOKESCOMPANY


1913


CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I THEVALLEYOFTHEPECOS
II THECAUCASIANWAY
III THEINDIANANDCAUCASIAN
IV THEINDIANWAY
V THEPURSUIT
VI ENTERINGTHEDESERTKINDERGARTEN
VII THEFIRSTLESSON
VIII ABROADENINGHORIZON
IX TOUCHANDGO
X ALONGTRAIL
XI THETURNINTHETRAIL
XII THECROSSINGTRAILS
XIII ANINTERLUDE
XIV THEBEAUTYOFTHEWORLD
XV ANESCAPE
XVI ADRIFTINTHEDESERT
XVII THEHEART'SOWNBITTERNESS

XVIII THEFORGOTTENCITY
XIX THETRAILAGAIN
XX THERUINEDMISSION
XXI THEENDOFTHETRAIL


TheHeartoftheDesert
CHAPTERI
THEVALLEYOFTHEPECOS
Rhodahobbledthroughthesandtothenearestrock.Onthisshesankwitha
groan,claspedherslenderfootwithbothhandsandlookedaboutherhelplessly.
She felt very small, very much alone. The infinite wastes of yellow desert
dancedinheatwavesagainstthebronze-bluesky.Thegirlsawnosignofliving
thingsaveabuzzardthatsweptlazilyacrossthezenith.Sheturneddizzilyfrom
contemplating the vast emptiness about her to a close scrutiny of her injured
foot. She drew off her thin satin house slipper painfully and dropped it
unheedingly into a bunch of yucca that crowded against the rock. Her silk
stockingfollowed.Thenshesatinhelplessmisery,eyingherblue-veinedfoot.
In spite of her evident invalidism, one could but wonder why she made so
littleefforttohelpherself.Shesatdroopinglyontherock,gazingfromherfoot
tothefarlavenderlineofthemesas.Atiny,impotentatomoflife,shesatasif
theeternalwhywhichthedeserthurlsatoneoverwhelmedher,deprivedherof
hope,almostofsensation.Therewassomethingofnobilityinthesteadinesswith
which she gazed at the melting distances, something of pathos in her evident
resignation,toherownhelplessnessandweakness.
Thegirlwasquiteunconsciousofthefactthatayoungmanwastrampingup
thedesertbehindher.He,however,hadspiedthewhitegownlongbeforeRhoda
hadsunktotherockandhadlaidhiscoursedirectlyforher.Hewasatallfellow,
standing welloversixfeetandheswungthroughtheheavysandwithan easy
stridethatcovereddistancewithastonishingrapidity.Ashedrewnearenoughto

perceive Rhoda's yellow head bent above her injured foot, he quickened his
pace,swungroundtheyuccathicketandpulledoffhissoftfelthat.
"Good-morning!"hesaid."What'sthematter?"


Rhodastarted,hastilycoveredherfoot,andlookedupatthetallkhaki-clad
figure.Sheneverhadseentheyoungmanbefore,butthedesertisnotformal.
"Athinglikealittlecrayfishbitmyfoot,"sheanswered;"andyoudon'tknow
howithurts!"
"Ah,butIdo!"exclaimedtheyoungman."Ascorpionsting!Letmeseeit!"
Rhodaflushed.
"Oh, nevermind that!"shesaid."But ifyouwillgo totheNewmanranchhouseformeandaskthemtosendthebuckboardI'llbeverygrateful.I—Ifeel
dizzy,youknow."
"Geewhiz!"exclaimedtheyoungman."There'snotimeformetorunabout
thedesertifyouhaveascorpionstinginyourfoot!"
"Is a scorpion sting dangerous?" asked Rhoda. Then she added, languidly,
"NotthatImindifitis!"
Theyoungmangaveheracuriousglance.Thenhepulledasmallcasefrom
hispocket,kneltinthesandandliftedRhoda'sfootinoneslender,strong,brown
hand.Theinstepalreadywasbadlyswollen.
"Holdtightaminute!"saidtheyoungman.
And before Rhoda could protest he had punctured the red center of the
swellingwithalittlescalpel,hadheldthecutopenandhadfilleditwithawhite
powderthatbit.Thenhepulledacleanhandkerchieffromhispocketandtoreit
intwo.Withonehalfheboundtheankleabovethecuttightly.Withtheotherhe
bandagedthecutitself.
"Areyouadoctor?"askedRhodafaintly.
"Far from it," replied the young man with a chuckle, tightening the upper
bandageuntilRhoda'sfootwasnumb."ButIalwayscarrythislittleoutfitwith
me;rattlersandscorpionsaresothickoverontheditch.Somebody'sapttobe

hurtanytime.I'mCharleyCartwell,JackNewman'sengineer."
"Oh!" said Rhoda understandingly. "I'm so dizzy I can't see you very well.


Thisisverygoodofyou.Perhapsnowyou'dgoonandgetthebuckboard.Tell
themit'sforRhoda,RhodaTuttle.Ijustwentoutforawalkandthen—"
Her voice trailed into nothingness and she could only steady her swaying
bodywithbothhandsagainsttherock.
"Huh!"gruntedyoungCartwell."Igoontothehouseandleaveyouherein
theboilingsun!"
"Wouldyoumindhurrying?"askedRhoda.
"Notatall,"returnedCartwell.
He plucked the stocking and slipper from the yucca and dropped them into
hispocket.ThenhestoopedandliftedRhodaacrosshisbroadchest.Thisroused
her.
"Why,youcan'tdothis!"shecried,strugglingtofreeherself.
Cartwellmerelytightenedhisholdandswungoutatapacethatwashalfrun,
halfwalk.
"Closeyoureyessothesunwon'thurtthem,"hesaidperemptorily.
Dizzilyandconfusedly,Rhodadroppedherheadbackonthebroadshoulder
and closed her eyes, with a feeling of security that later on was to appall her.
Long after she was to recall the confidence of this moment with unbelief and
horror.Nordidshedreamhowmanywearydaysandhourssheonedaywasto
pass with this same brazen sky over her, this same broad shoulder under her
head.
Cartwelllookeddownatthedelicatefacelyingagainsthisbreast,atthesoft
yellowhairmassedagainsthissleeve.Intohisblackeyescamealookthatwas
passionatelytender,andthestrongbrownhandthatsupportedRhoda'sshoulders
trembled.
Inanincrediblyshorttimehewasenteringthepeachorchardthatsurrounded

the ranch-house. A young man in white flannels jumped from a hammock in
whichhehadbeendozing.


"Forheaven'ssake!"heexclaimed."Whatdoesthismean?"
Rhodawastooilltoreply.Cartwelldidnotslackhisgiantstridetowardthe
house.
"It means," he answered grimly, "that you folks must be crazy to let Miss
Tuttletakeawalkinclotheslikethis!She'sgotascorpionstinginherfoot."
The man in flannels turned pale. He hurried along beside Cartwell, then
brokeintoarun.
"I'lltelephonetoGoldRockforthedoctorandtellMrs.Newman."
Hestartedonahead.
"Never mind the doctor!" called Cartwell. "I've attended to the sting. Tell
Mrs.Jacktohavehotwaterready."
As Cartwell sprang up the porch steps, Mrs. Newman ran out to meet him.
Shewasapretty,rosygirl,withbrowneyesandcurlybrownhair.
"Rhoda!Kut-le!"shecried."Whydidn'tIwarnher!Putheronthecouchhere
in the hall, Kut-le. John, tell Li Chung to bring the hot-water bottles. Here,
Rhodadear,drinkthis!"
For half an hour the three, with Li Chung hovering in the background,
worked over the girl. Then as they saw her stupor change to a natural sleep,
Katherinegaveasighthatwasalmostasob.
"She'sallright!"shesaid."OKut-le,ifyouhadn'tcomeatthatmoment!"
Cartwellshookhishead.
"Itmighthavegonehardwithher,she'ssodelicate.Gee,I'mgladIranoutof
tobaccothismorningandthoughtatwo-miletrampacrossthedesertforitworth
while!"
Thethreewereontheporchnow.Theyoungmaninflannels,whohadsaid
littlebuthadobeyedordersexplicitlyeyedCartwellcuriously.

"You're Newman's engineer, aren't you?" he asked. "My name's DeWitt.
You'veputusallundergreatobligations,thismorning."
Cartwelltooktheextendedhand.
"Well, you know," he said carefully, "a scorpion sting may or may not be
serious.Peoplehavediedofthem.Mrs.Jackheremakesnomoreofthemthan
of a mosquito bite, while Jack goes about like a drunken sailor with one for a
day,thenforgetsit.MissTuttlewillbeallrightwhenshewakesup.I'mofftill
dinnertime,Mrs.Jack.JackwillthinkI'vereverted!"
DeWittstoodforamomentwatchingthetall,lithefiguremovethroughthe
peach-trees.Hewastornbyastrangefeeling,halfofaversion,halfofcharmfor
thedarkyoungstranger.Then:
"Holdon,Cartwell,"hecried."I'lldriveyoubackinthebuckboard."
Katherine Newman, looking after the two, raised her eyebrows, shook her
head,thensmiledandwentbacktoRhoda.
Itwasmid-afternoonwhenRhodawoke.Katherinewassittingnearbywith
hersewing.
"Well!"saidRhodawonderingly."I'mallright,afterall!"
KatherinejumpedupandtookRhoda'sthinlittlehandjoyfully.
"Indeedyouare!"shecried."ThankstoKut-le!"
"Thankstowhom?"askedRhoda."Itwasatallyoungman.Hesaidhisname
wasCharleyCartwell."
"Yup!" answered Katherine. "Charley Cartwell! His other name is Kut-le.
He'llbeintodinnerwithJack,tonight.Isn'thegood-looking,though!"
"Idon'tknow.IwassodizzyIcouldn'tseehim.Heseemedverydark.Ishea
Spaniard?"
"Spaniard! No!" Katherine was watching Rhoda's languid eyes half
mischievously."He'spartMescallero,partPueblo,partMohave!"

Rhodasaterectwithflamingface.
"Youmeanthathe'sanIndianandIlethimcarryme!Katherine!"
ThemischiefinKatherine'sbrowneyesgrewtolaughter.
"I thought that would get a rise out of you, you blessed tenderfoot! What
difference does that make? He rescued you from a serious predicament; and
morethanthathe'safinefellowandoneofJack'sdearestfriends."
Rhoda'sdelicatefacestillwasflushed.
"AnIndian!WhatdidJohnDeWittsay?"
"Oh!"saidKatherine,carelessly,"heofferedtodriveKut-lebacktotheditch,
andhehasn'tgothomeyet.Theyprobablywillbeverycongenial,Johnbeinga
HarvardmanandKut-leaYale!"
Rhoda'scurvedlipsopened,thenclosedagain.Thelookofinterestdiedfrom
hereyes.
"Well,"shesaidinherusualwearyvoice,"IthinkI'llhaveaglassofmilk,ifI
may. Then I'll go out on the porch. You see I'm being all the trouble to you,
Katherine,thatIsaidIwouldbe."
"Trouble!" protested Katherine. "Why, Rhoda Tuttle, if I could just see you
withtheoldlightinyoureyesI'dwaitonyoubyinchesonmyknees.Iwould,
honestly."
Rhodarubbedathincheekagainstthewarmhandthatstillheldhers,andthe
mutethankssaidmorethanwords.
The veranda of the Newman ranch-house was deep and shaded by green
vines. From the hammock where she lay, a delicate figure amid the vivid
cushions, Rhoda looked upon a landscape that combined all the perfection of
verdureofanorthernparkwithasenseofillimitablebreathingspacethatshould
have been fairly intoxicating to her. Two huge cottonwoods stood beside the
porch. Beyond the lawn lay the peach orchard which vied with the bordering
alfalfa fields in fragrance and color. The yellow-brown of tree-trunks and the
white of grazing sheep against vegetation of richest green were astonishing

colorsforRhodatofindinthedeserttowhichshehadbeenexiled,andinthe
fewdayssinceherarrivalshehadnotceasedtowonderatthem.
DeWittcrossedtheorchard,quickeninghispacewhenhesawRhoda.Hewas
atallfellow,blondandwellbuilt,thoughnotsotallandlitheasCartwell.His
darkblueeyesweredisconcertinglyclearanddirect.
"Well, Rhoda dear!" he exclaimed as he hurried up the steps. "If you didn't
scarethisfamily!Howareyoufeelingnow?"
"I'mallright,"Rhodaansweredlanguidly."Itwasgoodofyoualltobother
soaboutme.Whathaveyoubeendoingallday?"
"OverattheditchwithJackandCartwell.Say,Rhoda,theyoungfellowwho
rescuedyouisanIndian!"
DeWitt dropped into a big chair by the hammock. He watched the girl
hopefully. It was such a long, long time since she had been interested in
anything!Buttherewasnoresponsivelightinthedeepgrayeyes.
"Katherinetoldme,"shereplied.Then,afterapause,asifshefeltitherduty
tomakeconversation,"Didyoulikehim?"
DeWittspokeslowly,asifhehadbeenconsideringthematter.
"I'vealotofraceprejudiceinme,Rhoda.Idon'tlikeniggersorChinamenor
Indianswhentheygetovertothewhiteman'ssideofthefence.Theyarewell
enoughontheirownside.However,thisCartwellchapseemsallright.Andhe
rescuedyoufromabeastlyserioussituation!"
"Idon'tknowthatI'masgratefulforthatasIoughttobe,"murmuredRhoda,
halftoherself."Itwouldhavebeenaneasysolution."
HerwordsstungDeWitt.Hestartedforwardandseizedthesmallthinhands
inbothhisown.
"Rhoda, don't!" he pleaded huskily. "Don't give up! Don't lose hope! If I
couldonlygiveyousomeofmystrength!Don'ttalkso!Itjustaboutbreaksmy
hearttohearyou."

For a time, Rhoda did not answer. She lay wearily watching the eager,
pleadingfacesoclosetoherown.Eveninherillness,Rhodawasverylovely.
The burnished yellow hair softened the thinness of the face that was like
delicately chiseled marble. The finely cut nose, the exquisite drooping mouth,
the little square chin with its cleft, and the great gray eyes lost none of their
beautythroughherweakness.
"John," she said at last, "why won't you look the truth in the face? I never
shall get well. I shall die here instead of in New York, that's all. Why did you
followmedownhere?Itonlytorturesyou.And,trulyit'snotsobadforme.You
allhavelostyourrealnesstome,somehow.Ishan'tmindgoing,much."
DeWitt'sstrongfaceworkedbuthisvoicewassteady.
"I never shall leave you," he said simply. "You are the one woman in the
worldforme.I'dmarryyoutomorrowifyou'dletme."
Rhodashookherhead.
"You ought to go away, John, and forget me. You ought to go marry some
finegirlandhaveahomeandafamily.I'mjustasickwreck."
"Rhoda,"andDeWitt'searnestvoicewasconvincing,"Rhoda,I'dpassupthe
healthiest,finestgirlonearthforyou,justsickyou.Why,can'tyouseethatyour
helplessnessanddependenceonlydeepenyourholdonme?Whowantsathing
asfragileandaslovelyasyouaretomakeahome!Youpayyourwayinlifejust
by living! Beauty and sweetness like yours is enough for a woman to give. I
don't want you to do a thing in the world. Just give yourself to me and let me
takecareofyou.Rhoda,dear,dearheart!"
"I can't marry unless I'm well," insisted Rhoda, "and I never shall be well
again.Iknowthatyouallthoughtitwasforthebest,bringingmedowntothe
desert,butjustassoonasIcanmanageitwithouthurtingKatherine'sandJack's
feelingstoomuch,I'mgoingbacktoNewYork.Ifyouonlyknewhowthebig
emptinessofthisdesertcountryaddstomydepression!"

"IfyougobacktoNewYork,"persistedDeWitt,"youaregoingbackasmy
wife. I'm sick of seeing you dependent on hired care. Why, Rhoda dear, is it
nothingtoyouthat,whenyouhaven'tanearrelativeintheworld,Iwouldgladly
dieforyou?"


"Oh!"criedthegirl,tearsofweaknessandpityinhereyes,"youknowthatit
meanseverythingtome!ButIcan'tmarryanyone.AllIwantisjusttocrawl
awayanddieinpeace.IwishthatthatIndianhadn'tcomeuponmesopromptly.
I'djusthavegonetosleepandneverwakened."
"Don't!Don't!"criedDeWitt."Ishallpickyouupandholdyouagainstallthe
world,ifyousaythat!"
"Hush!" whispered Rhoda, but her smile was very tender. "Some one is
comingthroughtheorchard."
DeWitt reluctantly released the slender hands and leaned back in his chair.
Thesunhadcrossedthepeachorchardslowly,breathlessly.Itcastlong,slanting
shadows along the beautiful alfalfa fields and turned the willows by the
irrigating ditch to a rosy gray. As the sun sank, song-birds piped and lizards
scuttled along the porch rail. The loveliest part of the New Mexican day had
come.
ThetwoyoungNorthernerswatchedthemanwhowasswingingthroughthe
orchard. It was Cartwell. Despite his breadth of shoulder, the young Indian
looked slender, though it was evident that only panther strength could produce
suchpanthergrace.Hecrossedthelawnandstoodatthefootofthesteps;one
hand crushed his soft hat against his hip, and the sun turned his close-cropped
blackhairtobluebronze.Foraninstantnoneofthethreespoke.Itwasasifeach
felttheimportofthismeetingwhichwastobecontinuedthroughsuchstrange
vicissitudes.Cartwell,however,wasnotlookingatDeWittbutatRhoda,andshe
returnedhisgaze,surprisedatthebeautyofhisface,withitslarge,long-lashed,
Mohave eyes that were set well apart and set deeply as are the eyes of those

whoseancestorshavelivedmuchintheopenglareofthesun;withthestraight,
thin-nostrilednose;withthestern,cleanlymodeledmouthandthesquarechin,
below.AndlookingintotheyoungIndian'sdeepblackeyes,Rhodafeltwithin
herselfavaguestirringthatforasecondwipedthelanguorfromhereyes.
Cartwellspokefirst,easily,inthequiet,well-modulatedvoiceoftheIndian.
"Hello!Allsafe,Isee!Mr.Newmanwillbehereshortly."Heseatedhimself
ontheupperstepwithhisbackagainstapillarandfannedhimselfwithhishat.
"Jack'sworkingtoohard.Iwanthimtogotothecoastforawhileandletmerun
theditch.Buthewon't.He'saspig-headedasaMohave."


"AretheMohavessopig-headedthen?"askedDeWitt,smiling.
Cartwellreturnedthesmilewithaflashofwhiteteeth.
"Youbettheyare!MymotherwaspartMohaveandsheusedtosaythatonly
thePuebloinherkeptherfrombeingasstiff-neckedasyucca.You'reallover
thedizziness,MissTuttle?"
"Yes,"saidRhoda."Youwereverygoodtome."
Cartwellshookhishead.
"I'mafraidIcan'ttakespecialcreditforthat.Willyoutworidetotheditch
with me tomorrow? I think Miss Tuttle will be interested in Jack's irrigation
dream,don'tyou,Mr.DeWitt?"
DeWittansweredalittlestiffly.
"It'soutofthequestionforMissTuttletoattemptsuchatrip,thankyou."
ButtoherownaswellasDeWitt'sastonishmentRhodaspokeprotestingly.
"Youmustletmerefusemyowninvitations,John.Perhapstheditchwould
interestme."
DeWittrepliedhastily,"Goodgracious,Rhoda!Ifanythingwillinterestyou,
don'tletmeinterfere."
TherewasprotestinhisvoiceagainstRhoda'sbeinginterestedinanIndian's
suggestion.BothRhodaandCartwellfeltthisandtherewasanawkwardpause.

ThiswasbrokenbyafainthalloofromthecorralandDeWittroseabruptly.
"I'llgodownandmeetJack,"hesaid.
"We'll do a lot of stunts if you're willing," Cartwell said serenely, his eyes
followingDeWitt'sbroadbackinscrutably."Thedesertislikeastory-bookifone
learns to read it. If you would be interested to learn, I would be keen to teach
you."
Rhoda'sgrayeyesliftedtotheyoungman'ssomberly.


"I'mtoodullthesedaystolearnanything,"shesaid."ButI—Ididn'tusedto
be! Truly I didn't! I used to be so alive, so strong! I believed in everything,
myselfmostofall!TrulyIdid!"Shepaused,wonderingatherlackofreticence.
Cartwell,however,waslookingatherwithsomethinginhisgazesoquietly
understanding that Rhoda smiled. It was a slow smile that lifted and deepened
thecornersofRhoda'slips,thatdarkenedhergrayeyestoblack,anunforgetable
smile to the loveliness of which Rhoda's friends never could accustom
themselves.Atthesightofit,Cartwelldrewadeepbreath,thenleanedtoward
herandspokewithcuriousearnestness.
"Youmakemefeelthesamewaythatstarlightonthedesertmakesmefeel."
Rhodarepliedinastonishment,"Why,youmustn'tspeakthatwaytome!It's
not—not—"
"Not conventional?" suggested Cartwell. "What difference does that make,
betweenyouandme?"
AgaincamethestrangestirringinRhodainresponsetoCartwell'sgaze.He
waslookingatherwithsomethingoftragedyinthedarkyoungeyes,something
ofsternnessanddeterminationintheclean-cutlips.Rhodawondered,afterward,
whatwouldhavebeensaidifKatherinehadnotchosenthismomenttocomeout
ontheporch.
"Rhoda,"sheasked,"doyoufeellikedressingfordinner?Hello,Kut-le,it's
timeyoumovedtowardsoapandwater,seemstome!"

"Yessum!" replied Cartwell meekly. He rose and helped Rhoda from the
hammock,thenheldthedooropenforher.DeWittandNewmanemergedfrom
theorchardashecrossedtoKatherine'schair.
"Issheverysick,Mrs.Jack?"heasked.
Katherinenoddedsoberly.
"Desperately sick. Her father and mother were killed in a railroad wreck a
yearago.Rhodawasn'tseriouslyhurtbutshehasnevergottenovertheshock.
She has been failing ever since. The doctor feared consumption and sent her
downhere.Butshe'sjustdyingbyinches.Oh,it'stooawful!Ican'tbelieveit!I


can'trealizeit!"
Cartwell stood in silence for a moment, his lips compressed, his eyes
inscrutable.
Then,"I'vemetheratlast,"hesaid."ItmakesmebelieveinFate."
Katherine'sprettylipspartedinamazement.
"Goodness!Areyouoftentakenthisway!"shegasped.
"Never before!" replied Cartwell serenely. "Jack said she'd broken her
engagementtoDeWittbecauseofherillness,soit'safairwar!"
"Kut-le!" exclaimed Katherine. "Don't talk like a yellow-backed novel! It's
notalifeordeathaffair."
"Youcan'ttellastothat,"answeredCartwellwithacuriouslittlesmile."You
mustn'tforgetthatI'manIndian."
Andheturnedtogreetthetwomenwhoweremountingthesteps.

CHAPTERII
THECAUCASIANWAY
WhenRhodaenteredthedining-roomsomeofherpallorseemedtohaveleft
her.Shewasdressedinagownofanelusivepinkthatgavearoseflushtothe
marblefinenessofherface.

Katherinewaschattingwithawiry,middle-agedmanwhomsheintroduced
toRhodaasMr.Porter,anArizonaminingman.Porterstoodasifstunnedfora
momentbyRhoda'sdelicateloveliness.Then,aswasthecustomofeveryman
who met Rhoda, he looked vaguely about for something to do for her. Jack
Newman forestalled him by taking Rhoda's hand and leading her to the table.
Jack'scurlyblondhairlookedalmostwhiteincontrastwithhistannedface.He


wasnotastallaseitherCartwellorDeWittbuthewasstrongandclean-cutand
had a boyish look despite the heavy responsibilities of his five-thousand-acre
ranch.
"There," he said, placing Rhoda beside Porter; "just attach Porter's scalp to
yourbeltwiththerestofyourcollection.It'llbeanewexperiencetohim.Don't
beafraid,Porter."
BillyPorterwasnotintheleastembarrassed.
"I'vecometooneartolosingmyscalptotheApachestobescaredbyMiss
Tuttle. Anyhow I gave her my scalp without a yelp the minute I laid eyes on
her."
"Here!That'snotfair!"criedJohnDeWitt."Therestofushadtoworktoget
hertotakeours!"
"Our what?" asked Cartwell, entering the room at the last word. He was
lookingverycoolandwellgroomedinwhiteflannels.
Billy Porter stared at the newcomer and dropped his soup-spoon with a
splash."Whatinthunder!"Rhodaheardhimmutter.
JackNewmanspokehastily.
"ThisisMr.Cartwell,ourirrigationengineer,Mr.Porter."
PorterrespondedtotheyoungIndian'scourteousbowwithasurlynod,and
proceededwithhissoup.
"I'dassooneatwithaniggerasanInjun,"hesaidtoRhodaundercoverof
somelaughingremarkofKatherine'stoCartwell.

"Heseemstobenice,"saidRhodavaguely."Maybe,though,Katherineisa
littleliberal,makinghimoneofthefamily."
"Is there any hunting at all in this open desert country?" asked DeWitt. "I
certainlyhatetogobacktoNewYorkwithnothingbutsunburntoshowformy
trip!"


"Coyotes, wildcats, rabbits and partridges," volunteered Cartwell. "I know
wherethereisanestofwildcatsuponthefirstmesa.AndIknowanIndianwho
will tan the pelts for you, like velvet. A jack-rabbit pelt well tanned is an
exquisitethingtoo,bytheway.Iwillgoonahuntwithyouwhenevertheditch
canbeleft."
"And while they are chasing round after jacks, Miss Tuttle," cut in Billy
Porter neatly, "I will take you anywhere you want to go. I'll show you things
thesekidsneverdreamedof!IknewthiscountryinthedaysofApacheraidsand
theponyexpress."
"Thatwillbefine!"repliedRhoda."ButI'dratherhearthestoriesthantake
anytrips.DidyouspendyourboyhoodinNewMexico?DidyouseerealIndian
fights?Didyou—?"ShepausedwithaninvoluntaryglanceatCartwell.
Porter,too,lookedatthedarkyoungfaceacrossthetableandsomethingin
itsinscrutablecalmseemedtomaddenhim.
"Myboyhoodhere?Yes,andahappyboyhooditwas!Icamehomefromthe
range one day and found my little fifteen-year-old sister and a little neighbor
friend of hers hung up by the back of their necks on butcher hooks. They had
beentorturedtodeathbyApaches.Idon'tlikeIndians!"
There was an awkward pause at the dinner table. Li Chung removed the
soup-plates noiselessly. Cartwell's brown fingers tapped the tablecloth. But he
wasnotlookingatPorter's scowlingface.HewaswatchingRhoda'sgrayeyes
whichwerefastenedonhimwithalookhalfofpity,halfofaversion.Whenhe
spoke it was as if he cared little for the opinions of the others but would set

himselfrightwithheralone.
"Myfather,"hesaid,"camehomefromthehunt,oneday,tofindhismother
andthreesisterslyingintheirownblood.Thewhiteshadgottenthem.Theyall
hadbeenscalpedandweredeadexceptthebaby,threeyearsold.She—she—my
fatherkilledher."
Agaspofhorrorwentroundthetable.
"Ithinksuchstoriesareinexcusablehere!"exclaimedKatherineindignantly.
"SodoI,Mrs.Jack,"repliedCartwell."Iwon'tdoitagain."


Porter'sfacestainedadeepmahoganyandhebowedstifflytoKatherine.
"Ibegyourpardon,Mrs.Newman!"
"I feel as if I were visiting a group of anarchists," said Rhoda plaintively,
"andhadinnocentlypassedroundabombonwhichtomakeconversation!"
JackNewmanlaughed,thetensionrelaxed,andinamomentthedinnerwas
proceeding merrily, though Porter and Cartwell carefully avoided speaking to
eachother.MostoftheconversationcenteredaroundRhoda.Katherinealways
had been devoted to her friend. And though men always had paid homage to
Rhoda, since her illness had enhanced her delicacy, and had made her so
appealinglyhelpless,theyweredrawntoherassurelyasbeetoflower.Oldand
young, dignified and happy-go-lucky, all were moved irresistibly to do
somethingforher,tocoddleher,toundertakeimpossiblemissions,self-imposed.
Porter from his place of vantage beside her kept her plate heaped with
delicacies,calmlyremovedthebreastofchickenfromhisownplatetohers,all
butfedherwithaspoonwhensherefusedtomorethannibbleathermeal.
DeWitt's special night-mare was that drafts were blowing on her. He kept
excusinghimselffromthetabletoopenandclosewindowsanddoors,tohang
overherchairsoastofeelforhimselfifthewindtouchedher.
KatherineandJackkeptLiChungtrottingtothekitchenfordifferentdainties
withwhichtotempther.OnlyCartwelldidnothing.Hekeptupwhatseemedto

behisusualfireofamiableconversationandwatchedRhodaconstantlythrough
inscrutableblackeyes.Buthemadenoattempttoserveher.
Rhoda was scarcely conscious of the deference showed her, partly because
she had received it so long, partly because that detached frame of mind of the
hopeless invalid made the life about her seem shadowy and unreal. Nothing
reallymatteredmuch.Shelaybackinherchairwiththelittlewistfulsmile,the
somberlightinhereyesthathadbecomehabitualtoher.
After dinner was finished Katherine led the way to the living-room. To his
unspeakable pride, Rhoda took Billy Porter's arm and he guided her listless
footsteps carefully, casting pitying glances on his less favored friends. Jack
wheeled a Morris chair before the fireplace—desert nights are cool—and John
DeWitthurriedforashawl,whileKatherinegaveeveryoneordersthatnoone


heededintheleast.
Cartwell followed after the others, slowly lighted a cigarette, then seated
himselfatthepiano.Fortherestoftheeveninghemadenoattempttojoininthe
fragmentary conversation. Instead he sang softly, as if to himself, touching the
keys so gently that their notes seemed only the echo of his mellow voice. He
sangbitsofSpanishlove-songs,ofMexicanlullabies.Butforthemostparthe
kepttoIndianmelodies—wistfullove-songsandchantsthattouchedthelistener
withstrangepoignancy.
Therewaslittletalkamongthegrouparoundthefire.Thethreemensmoked
peacefully.KatherineandJacksatclosetoeachother,onthedavenport,content
tobetogether.DeWittloungedwherehecouldwatchRhoda,asdidBillyPorter,
thelatterhangingoneverywordandmovementofthislovely,fragilebeing,asif
hewouldcarryforeverinhisheartthememoryofhercharm.
Rhodaherselfwatchedthefire.Shewastired,tiredtotheinmostfiberofher
being.Theonlyrealdesireleftherwasthatshemightcrawloffsomewhereand
die in peace. But these good friends of hers had set their faces against the

inevitableanditwasonlydecencytohumorthem.Once,quiteunconsciousthat
theotherswerewatchingher,sheliftedherhandsandeyedthemidly.Theywere
almosttransparentandshookalittle.Thegroupaboutthefirestirredpityingly.
JohnandKatherineandJackrememberedthoseshadowyhandswhentheyhad
beenrosyandfullofwarmthandtenderness.BillyPorterleanedacrossandwith
hishardbrownpalmspressedthetremblingfingersdownintoRhoda'slap.She
lookedupinastonishment.
"Don'thold'emso!"saidBillyhoarsely."Ican'tstandtosee'em!"
"They are pretty bad," said Rhoda, smiling. It was her rare, slow,
unforgetablesmile.Porterswallowedaudibly.Cartwellatthepianodriftedfrom
aMohavelamenttoLaPaloma.
"ThedaythatIleftmyhomefortherollingsea,
Isaid,'Motherdear,OpraytothyGodforme!'
Bute'erIsetsailIwentafondleavetotake
OfNina,whoweptasifherpoorheartwouldbreak!"

The mellow, haunting melody caught Rhoda's fancy at once, as Cartwell
knew it would. She turned to the sinewy figure at the piano. DeWitt was
wholesomeandstrong,butthisyoungIndianseemedvitalityitself.


"Nina,ifIshoulddieando'erocean'sfoam
Softlyatduskafairdoveshouldcome,
Openthywindow,Nina,foritwouldbe
Myfaithfulsoulcomebacktothee——"

SomethinginCartwell'svoicestirredRhodaashadhiseyes.Forthefirsttime
inmonthsRhodafeltpoignantlythatitwouldbehardtobecutdownwithallher
life unlived. The mellow voice ceased and Cartwell, rising, lighted a fresh
cigarette.

"Iamgoingtogetupwiththerabbits,tomorrow,"hesaid,"soI'lltrottobed
now."
DeWitt, impelled by that curious sense of liking for the young Indian that
fought down his aversion, said, "The music was bully, Cartwell!" but Cartwell
only smiled as if at the hint of patronage in the voice and strolled to his own
room.
Rhodasleptlatethefollowingmorning.Shehadnot,inherthreenightsinthe
desert country, become accustomed to the silence that is not the least of the
desert'ssplendors.ItseemedtoherthatthenamelessunknownMysterytoward
whichherlifewasdriftingwasembodiedinthisinfinitesilence.Sosleepwould
not come to her until dawn. Then the stir of the wind in the trees, the bleat of
sheep,thetrillofmocking-birdslulledhertosleep.
As the brilliancy of the light in her room increased there drifted across her
uneasydreamstheliltingnotesofawhistledcall.Pureandliquidlysweetthey
persisteduntiltherecametoRhodathatfaintstirofhopeandlongingthatshe
had experienced the day before. She opened her eyes and finally, as the call
continued, she crept languidly from her bed and peered from behind the
window-shade. Cartwell, in his khaki suit, his handsome head bared to the hot
sun,leanedagainstapeach-treewhilehewatchedRhoda'swindow.
"Iwonderwhathewakenedmefor?"shethoughthalfresentfully."Ican'tgo
tosleepagain,soImayaswelldressandhavebreakfast."
HardlyhadsheseatedherselfathersolitarymealwhenCartwellappeared.
"Dearme!"heexclaimed."ThebirdsandMr.DeWitthavebeenupthislong
time."


"WhatisJohndoing?"askedRhodacarelessly.
"He's gone up on the first mesa for the wildcats I spoke of last night. I
thoughtperhapsyoumightcaretotakeadrivebeforeitgottoohot.Youdidn't
sleepwelllastnight,didyou?"

Rhodaansweredwhimsically.
"It's the silence. It thunders at me so! I will get used to it soon. Perhaps I
oughttodrive.IsupposeIoughttotryeverything."
Notatalldiscouraged,apparently,bythislackofenthusiasm,Cartwellsaid:
"Iwon'tletyouoverdo.I'llhavethetop-buggyforyouandwe'llgoslowly
andcarefully."
"No,"saidRhoda,suddenlyrecallingthat,afterall,CartwellwasanIndian,"I
don'tthinkIwillgo.Katherinewillhaveallsortsofobjections."
TheIndiansmiledsardonically.
"IalreadyhaveMrs.Jack'spermission.BillyPorterwillbein,inamoment.
IfyouwouldratherhaveawhitemanthananIndian,asescort,I'mquitewilling
toretreat."
Rhodaflusheddelicately.
"Yourfranknessisalmost—almostimpertinent,Mr.Cartwell."
"Idon'tmeanitthatwayatall!"protestedtheIndian."It'sjustthatIsawso
plainlywhatwasgoingoninyourmindanditpiquedme.Ifitwillbeonebit
pleasanterforyouwithBilly,I'llgorightoutandhunthimupforyounow."
Theyoungman'snaïvetécompletelydisarmedRhoda.
"Don'tbesilly!"shesaid."Gogetyourfamoustop-buggyandI'llbereadyin
aminute."
In a short time Rhoda and Cartwell, followed by many injunctions from
Katherine, started off toward the irrigating ditch. At a slow pace they drove


throughthepeachorchardintothedesert.Astheyreachedtheopentrail,thrush
and to-hee fluttered from the cholla. Chipmunk and cottontail scurried before
them. Overhead a hawk dipped in its reeling flight. Cartwell watched the girl
keenly.Herpalefacewasverylovelyinthebrilliantmorninglight,thoughthe
somberness of her wide, gray eyes was deepened. That same muteness and
patience in her trouble which so touched other men touched Cartwell, but he

onlysaid:
"Thereneverwasanythingbiggerandfinerthanthisopendesert,wasthere?"
Rhoda turned from staring at the distant mesas and eyed the young Indian
wonderingly.
"Why!"sheexclaimed,"Ihateit!Youknowthatsickfearthatgetsyouwhen
youtrytopictureeternitytoyourself?That'sthewaythisbarrennessandawful
distanceaffectsme.Ihateit!"
"But you won't hate it!" cried Cartwell. "You must let me show you its
bigness.It'sashealingasthehandofGod."
Rhodashuddered.
"Don'ttalkaboutit,please!I'lltrytothinkofsomethingelse."
They drove in silence for some moments. Rhoda, her thin hands clasped in
her lap, resolutely stared at the young Indian's profile. In the unreal world in
whichshedrifted,sheneededsomethoughtofstrength,somehopebeyondher
own,towhichtocling.Shewaslonely—lonelyassomeoutcastwatchingwith
sickeyesthejoyoftheworldtowhichheisdenied.Asshestaredatthestern
youngprofilebesideher,intoherheartcreptthenowfamiliarthrill.
SuddenlyCartwellturnedandlookedatherquizzically.
"Well,whatareyourconclusions?"
Rhodashookherhead.
"Idon'tknow,exceptthatit'shardtorealizethatyouareanIndian."
Cartwell'svoicewasironical.


"TheonlygoodIndianisadeadIndian,youknow.I'mliabletobreakloose
anytime,believeme!"
Rhoda's eyes were on the far lavender line where the mesa melted into the
mountains.
"Yes,andthenwhat?"sheasked.
Cartwell'seyesnarrowed,butRhodadidnotsee.

"Then I'm liable to follow Indian tradition and take whatever I want, by
whatevermeans!"
"My! My!" said Rhoda, "that sounds bludgy! And what are you liable to
want?"
"Oh,Iwantthesamethingthatagreatmanywhitemenwant.I'mgoingto
have it myself, though!" His handsome face glowed curiously as he looked at
Rhoda.
But the girl was giving his words small heed. Her eyes still were turned
toward the desert, as though she had forgotten her companion. Sand whirls
crossedthedistantlevels,ceaselessly.Hugeandmenacing,theyswirledoutfrom
the mesa's edge, crossed the desert triumphantly, then, at contact with rock or
cholla thicket, collapsed and disappeared. Endless, merciless, hopeless the
yellow desert quivered against the bronze blue sky. For the first time dazed
hopelessnessgavewayinRhodatofear.TheyoungIndian,watchingthegirl's
face, beheld in it what even DeWitt never had seen there—beheld deadly fear.
Hewassilentforamoment,thenheleanedtowardherandputastrongbrown
handoverhertremblinglittlefists.Hisvoicewasdeepandsoft.
"Don't,"hesaid,"don't!"
Perhaps it was the subtle, not-to-be-fathomed influence of the desert which
fights all sham; perhaps it was that Rhoda merely had reached the limit of her
heroic self-containment and that, had DeWitt or Newman been with her, she
would have given way in the same manner; perhaps it was that the young
Indian's presence had in it a quality that roused new life in her. Whatever the
cause; the listless melancholy suddenly left Rhoda's gray eyes and they were
wildandblackwithfear.