And so again, the nights of going. But the holiday aspect of the flight was gone. Kut-le moved with a grim determination that was not to be misinterpreted. Rhoda knew that they were to reach the Mexican border with all possible speed. The young Indian drove the little party to the limit of its endurance. Rhoda avoided talking to him as much as she could and Kut-le, seeming to understand her mood, left her much to herself.
On the fourth day they camped on a cañon edge. After Rhoda had eaten she walked with Kut-le to the far edge and looked down. The cañon was very deep and narrow. Some distance away, near where it opened on the desert, lay a heap of ruins.
"Is that another pueblo?" asked Rhoda.
"No, it's an old monastery. Part of the year they have a padre there. I wish I knew if there was one there now."
"Why?" asked Rhoda suspiciously.
"Don't bother your dear head," answered Kut-le. Then he went on, as if half to himself: "There's been an awful lot of fooling on this expedition. Perhaps I ought to have made for the Mexican border the very night I took you." He looked at Rhoda's wide, troubled eyes. "But no, then I would have missed this wonderful desert growth of yours! But now we are going straight over the border where I know a padre that will many us. Then we will make for Europe at once."
The morning sun glinted on the pine-needles. Old Molly hummed a singsong air over the stew-pot. And Rhoda stood with stormy, tear-dimmed eyes and quivering lips.
"It can never, never be, Kut-le!"
"Why not?"
"We can't solve the problems of race adjustment. No love is big enough for that. I have been civilized a thousand years. You have been savage a thousand years. You can't come forward. I can't go backward."
"You know well enough, Rhoda," said Kut-le quietly, "that I am civilized."
"You are externally, perhaps," said the girl. "But you yourself have no proof that at heart you are not as uncivilized as your father or grandfather. Your stealing me shows that. Nothing can change our instinct. You know that you might revert at any time."
Kut-le turned on her fiercely.
"Do you love me, Rhoda?"
Rhoda stood silently, her cleft chin trembling, her deep gray eyes wide and grief-stricken.
"Do you love me--and better than you do DeWitt?" insisted the man, Suddenly Rhoda lifted her head proudly.
"Yes," she said, "I do love you, better than any one in the world; but I cannot marry you!"
Kut-le took her trembling hands in his.