“It was dead easy!” he whispered.  “They were all asleep!  I even took a saddle for you!  Now hike!”

Rhoda gripped her pony with her knees as the little fellow cantered unerringly through the darkness after Kut-le.  She felt a sudden pride and exultation in the security she had developed in the saddle during the travail of her night rides.  She knew that no man of her acquaintance could ride a horse as she could now.  And with the exultation she was trembling with excitement.  She knew that none of them could expect mercy if the Navajos discovered their loss in time to take up the chase.  All the eagerness of the gambler who stakes his life on a throw of the dice; all the wild thrill of the chase; all the trembling of the panting, woodland things that hunt and are hunted, were Rhoda’s as the night wind rushed past her face.  The apathy of illness was gone.  Tonight she was as wild a thing as the night’s birds that brushed across their trail on sweeping wing.

When they made camp at dawn Rhoda tumbled into her blanket and was asleep before Alchise finished covering their trail.  When she woke she found that they were camped in a strange eerie.  They were high up on a mountain on a shelf that gave back into a shallow cave.  In front, facing the desert, was a heap of rock that formed a natural rampart.  A tiny spring bubbled from the cave floor.  Here the little party would seem as secure in their dizzy seclusion as eagles of the Andes.

It was barely noon and the mountain air was sweet and exhilarating.  Kut-le sat against the rampart, smoking a cigarette, while Molly and Cesca worked over the fire.  Rhoda lunched on the tortillas to which Molly had clung through all the vicissitudes of flight.

“Where are the horses?” she asked Kut-le.

“Oh, Alchise took them back.  We must stay here a while till your mob of friends disperses.  I couldn’t feed them and I wanted to pacify the Navajos and get some supplies from them.  Alchise will fix it up with them.”

And here on this dizzy brink of the desert Kut-le did pause as if for a long, long holiday.  The wisdom of the proceeding did not trouble him at all.  The call of the desert was an allurement to which he yielded unresistingly, trusting to elude capture through his skill and unfailing good fortune.

To Rhoda the pause was welcome.  She still had faith that the longer they camped in one spot the surer would be the pursuers to stumble upon them.  Kut-le began to devote himself entirely to Rhoda’s amusement.  He knew all the plant and animal life of the desert, not only as an Indian but as a college man who had loved biology.  By degrees Rhoda’s good brain began to respond to his vivid interest and the girl in her stay on the mountain shelf learned the desert as has been given to few whites to learn it.  Besides what she learned from the men Rhoda became expert in camp work under Molly’s patient teaching.  She could kindle the tiny, smokeless fire.  She could concoct appetizing messes from the crude food.  She could detect good water from bad and could find forage for horses.  The crowning pride of her achievements was learning to weave the dish basketry.