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: 

“Don’t stir, Rhoda!  Don’t call or you’ll have his whole bunch up here!”

“Don’t worry about that!” exclaimed Kut-le.  “You’ve been wanting to get hold of me.  Now we’ll fight it out bare-handed and the best man wins.”

Rhoda looked wildly down the trail, then ran up to the two men.

“Stop!” she screamed.  “Stop!” Then as she caught the look in the men’s faces as they glared at each other she cried, “I hate you both, you beasts!”

Her screams carried far in the night air, for in a moment Cesca came panting up the trail.  She lunged at DeWitt with catlike fury, but at a sharp word from Kut-le she turned to Rhoda and stood guard beside the girl.  Rhoda stood helplessly watching the battle as one watches the horrors of a nightmare.

Kut-le and DeWitt now were fighting as two wolves fight.  Both the men were trained wrestlers, but in their fury all their scientific training was forgotten, and rolling over and over on the rocky trail each fought for a hold on the other’s throat.  With Kut-le was the advantage of perfect condition and superior strength.  But DeWitt was fighting for his stolen mate.  He was fighting like a cave man who has brooded for months on his revenge, and he was a terrible adversary.  He had the sudden strength, the fearful recklessness of a madman.  Now rolling on the edge of the terrace, now high against the crumbling pueblo, the savage and the civilized creature dragged each other back and forth.  And Rhoda, awed by this display of passions, stood like the First Woman and waited!

Of a sudden Kut-le disentangled himself and with knees on DeWitt’s shoulders he clutched at the white man’s throat.  At the same time, DeWitt gathered together his recumbent body and with a mighty heave he flung Kut-le over his head.  Rhoda gave a little cry, thinking the fight was ended; but as Kut-le gained his feet, DeWitt sprang to meet him and the struggle was renewed.  Rhoda never had dreamed of a sight so sickening as this of the two men she knew so well fighting for each other’s throats with the animal’s lust for killing.  She did not know what would be Kut-le’s course if he gained the mastery, but as she caught glimpses of DeWitt’s face with its clenched teeth and terrible look of loathing she knew that if his fingers ever reached Kut-le’s throat the Indian could hope for no mercy.