The Heart of the Desert (Kut-Le of the Desert)Morrow, Honoré
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The Heart of the Desert (Kut-Le of the Desert)
Morrow, Honoré
Indians of North America -- West (U.S.) -- Fiction; Love stories; Western stories
They returned to their little camp on the upper terrace and Rhoda sat
with wistful gray eyes fastened on the desert while John busied himself
with the trap-making. He worked with the skill of his country boyhood
and the trap was cleverly finished.
"It's evident that I'm not the leader of the expedition any more," said
Rhoda, looking at the trap admiringly.
John shook his head.
"I've lost my faith in myself as a hero. It's one thing to read of the
desert and think how well you could have managed there, and another
thing to be on the spot!"
The day passed slowly. As night drew on the two on the mesa top grew
more and more anxious. There was little doubt but that they could live
for a number of days at the old pueblo, yet it was evident that the
ruin was far from any traveled trail and that chances of discovery were
slight except by Kut-le. On the other hand, they were absolutely
unprepared for a walking trip across the desert. Troubled and
uncertain what to do, they watched the wonder of the sunset. Deeper,
richer, more divine grew the colors of the desert, and in one supreme,
flaming glory the sun sank from view.
DeWitt with his arm across Rhoda's shoulders spoke anxiously.
"Don't you still think we'd better start tomorrow?"
"Yes," she answered, "I suppose so. What direction shall we take?"
"East," replied DeWitt. "We're bound to strike help if we can keep
going long enough in one direction. We'll cook a good supply of
rabbits and I'll fix up one of those bowl-like ollas with my
handkerchief, so we can carry water in it as well as in the two
canteens. I think you had better sleep in the little room there
tonight and I'll lie across the end of the trail here."
Rhoda sighed.
"I've nothing better to suggest. As you say, it's all guesswork!"
They set the rabbit trap by the spring, then Rhoda, quite recovered
from her nervousness of the night before, entered her little
sleeping-room and made ready for the night. The front of the room had
so crumbled away that she could see John's dark form by the trail, and
she lay down with a sense of security and fell asleep at once.
John paced the terrace for a long hour after Rhoda was asleep, trying
to plan every detail for the morrow. He dared not confess even to
himself how utterly disheartened he felt in the face of this terrible
adversary, the desert. Finally, realizing that he must have rest if
Rhoda was not to repeat her previous experience in leading him across
the desert he stretched himself on the ground across the head of the
trail. He must trust to his nervousness to make him sleep lightly.
How long she had slept Rhoda did not know when she was wakened by a
half-muffled oath from DeWitt. She jumped to her feet and ran out to
the terrace. Never while life remained to her was she to forget what
she saw there. DeWitt and Kut-le were wrestling in each other's grip!
Rhoda stood horrified. As the two men twisted about, DeWitt saw the
girl and panted:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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