Part 7 (2/2)

Her first thought was that she never would recover from the disgrace of this episode. Following this thought came fury at the man who was so outraging her. It only he would free her hands for a moment she would choke him! Her anger would give her strength for that! Then she fought against her fastenings. They held her all but motionless and the sense of her helplessness brought back the fear panic. Utterly helpless, she thought! Flying through darkness to an end worse than death! In the power of a naked savage! Her fear almost robbed her of her reason.

After what seemed to her endless hours, the horses were stopped suddenly. She felt her fastenings removed. Then Kut-le lifted her to the ground where she tumbled, helpless, at his feet. He stooped and took the gag from her mouth. Immediately with what fragment of strength remained to her, she screamed again and again. The two Indians stood stolidly watching her for a time, then Kut-le knelt in the sand beside her huddled form and laid his hand on her arm.

”There, Rhoda,” he said, ”no one can hear you. You will only make yourself sick.”

Rhoda struck his hand feebly.

”Don't touch me!” she cried hoa.r.s.ely. ”Don't touch me, you beast! I loathe you! I am afraid of you! Don't you dare to touch me!”

At this Kut-le imprisoned both her cold hands in one of his warm palms and held them despite her struggles, while with the other hand he smoothed her tumbled hair from her eyes.

”Poor frightened little girl,” he said, in his rich voice. ”I wish I might have done otherwise. But there was no other way. I don't know that I believe much in your G.o.d but I guess you do. So I tell you, Rhoda, that by your faith in Him, you are absolutely safe in my hands!”

Rhoda caught her breath in a childlike sob while she sstill struggled to recover her hands.

”I loathe you!” she panted. ”I loathe you! I loathe you!”

But Kut-le would not free the cold little hands.

”But do you fear me, too? Answer me! Do you fear me?”

The moon had risen and Rhoda looked into the face that bent above hers.

This was a naked savage with hawk-like face. Yet the eyes were the ones that she had come to know so well, half tragic, somber, but clear and, toward her, tender, very, very tender. With a shuddering sigh, Rhoda looked away. But against her own volition she found herself saying:

”I'm not afraid now! But I loathe you, you Apache Indian!”

Something very like a smile touched the grim mouth of the Apache.

”I don't hate you, you Caucasian!” he answered quietly.

He chafed the cold hands for a moment, in silence. Then he lifted her to her saddle. But Rhoda was beyond struggle, beyond even clinging to the saddle. Kut-le caught her as she reeled.

”Don't tie me!” she panted. ”Don't tie me! I won't fight! I won't even scream, if you won't tie me!”

”But you can't sit your saddle alone,” replied Kut-le. ”I'll have to tie you.”

Once more he lifted her to the horse. Once more with the help of his silent companion he fastened her with blankets. Once more the journey was begun. For a little while, distraught and uncertain what course to pursue, Rhoda endured the misery of position and motion in silence.

Then the pain was too much and she cried out in protest. Kut-le brought the horses to a walk.

”You certainly have about as much s.p.u.n.k as a chicken with the pip!” he said contemptuously. ”I should think your loathing would brace you up a little!”

Stung by the insult to a sudden access of strength, as the Indian had intended her to be, Rhoda answered, ”You beast!” but as the horses swung into the trot she made no protest for a long hour. Then once more her strength failed her and she fell to crying with deep-drawn sobs that shook her entire body. After a few moments of this, Kut-le drew close to her.

”Don't!” he said huskily. ”Don't!” And again he laid his hand on her shoulder.

Rhoda shuddered but could not cease her sobs. Kut-le seemed to hesitate for a few moments. Then he reached over, undid Rhoda's fastenings and lifted her limp body to the saddle before him, holding her against his broad chest as if he were coddling a child. Then he started the horses on. Too exhausted to struggle, Rhoda lay sobbing while the young Indian sat with his tragic eyes fastened steadily on the mysterious distances of the trail. Finally Rhoda sank into a stupor and, seeing this, Kut-le doubled the speed of the horses.

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