"Take it away!" she whispered. "Take it away!"
Molly looked at the girl in stupid surprise.
"You must eat, Rhoda girl!" said Kut-le.
Rhoda made no reply but leaned limply against the ancient rock, her golden hair touching the crude drawings of long ago. She was a very different Rhoda from the eager girl of the early morning. She ignored every effort Kut-le made to tempt her to eat. Her tired gaze wandered to her hands, still blood-grimed, and her cleft chin quivered. Kut-le saw the expressive little look.
"I'm sorry," he said simply.
Rhoda looked up at him.
"I don't believe you," she returned calmly.
The Indian's jaw stiffened.
"Come, we'll start now."
The afternoon was like the morning, except that the sun was more burning overhead, the way more scorching underfoot; except that the course became more broken, the clambering heavier, the drops more wracking. All the afternoon, Kut-le carried Rhoda. At last the sun sank below the mesa and the day was ended.