Part 15 (2/2)

Obediently, Rhoda sat erect. Alchise turned slowly to light a cigarette out of the wind. Rhoda yawned, rose sleepily, looked under her blanket and shook her, head irritably, then dragged her blankets toward the neighboring cat's-claw. Again she settled herself to sleep.

Alchise turned back to his view of the desert.

”I'm behind the bush here,” whispered the voice. ”I'm a prospector.

Saw you make camp. I don't know where any of the search parties are but if you can crawl round to me I'll guarantee to get you to 'em somehow. Slip out of your blankets and leave 'em, rounded up as if you was still under 'em. Quick now and careful!”

Rhoda, her eyes never leaving Alchise's impa.s.sive back, drew herself silently and swiftly from her blankets and with a clever touch or two rounded them. Then she crept around the cat's-claw, where a man squatted, his eyes blazing with excitement. He put up a sinewy, hand to pull her from sight when, without warning, Rhoda sneezed.

Instantly there was the click of a rifle and Alchise shouted:

”Stop!”

”Confound it!” growled the man, rising to full view, ”why didn't you swallow it!”

”I couldn't!” replied Rhoda indignantly. ”You don't suppose I wanted to!”

She turned toward the camp. Alchise was standing stolidly covering them with his rifle. Kut-le was walking coolly toward them, while the squaws sat gaping.

”Well!” exclaimed Kut-le. ”What can we do for you, Jim?”

The stranger, a rough tramp-like fellow in tattered overalls, wiped his face, on which was a week's stubble.

”I'd always thought you was about white, Cartwell,” he said, ”but I see you're no better than the rest of them. What are you going to do with me?”

Kut-le eyed his unbidden guest speculatively.

”Well, we'll have something to eat first. I don't like to think on an empty stomach. Come over to my blanket and sit down, Jim.”

Ignoring Rhoda, who was watching him closely, Kut-le seated himself on his blanket beside Jim and offered him a cigarette, which was refused.

”I don't want no favors from you, Cartwell.” His voice was surly.

There was something more than his rough appearance that Rhoda disliked about the man but she didn't know just what it was. Kut-le's eyes narrowed, but he lighted his own cigarette without replying. ”You're up to a rotten trick and you know it, Cartwell,” went on Jim. ”You take my advice and let me take the girl back to her friends and you make tracks down into Mexico as fast as the Lord'll let you.”

Kut-le s.h.i.+fted the Navajo that hung over his naked shoulders. He gave a short laugh that Rhoda had never heard from him before.

”Let her go with you, Jim Provenso! You know as well as I do that she is safer with an Apache! Anything else?”

”Yes, this else!” Jim's voice rose angrily. ”If ever we get a chance at you, we'll hang you sky high, see? This may go with Injuns but not with whites, you dirty pup!”

Suddenly Kut-le rose and, dropping his blanket, stood before the white man in his bronze perfection.

”Provenso, you aren't fit to look at a decent woman! Don't put on dog just because you belong to the white race. You're disreputable, and you know it. Don't speak to Miss Tuttle again; you are too rotten!”

The prospector had risen and stood glaring at Kut-le.

”I'll kill you for that yet, you dirty Injun!” he shouted.

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