DeWitt grinned and started down the trail obediently. But Rhoda laid a detaining hand on his arm. The sun was but a moment high. All the mesa front lay in purple shadows, though farther out the desert glowed with the yellow light of a new day. "I think animals come to the spring to drink," said Rhoda. "There were tiny wet footmarks there when I went down to wash my face." "Bully!" exclaimed John. "Wait now, let's watch." The two dropped to the ground and peered over the edge of the upper terrace. The spring bubbled forth serenely, followed its shallow trough a short distance, then disappeared into the insatiable floor of the desert. For several moments the two lay watching until at last Rhoda grew restless. DeWitt laid a detaining hand on her arm. "Hush!" he whispered. 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-glass. 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. "Nobody 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!"