good-looking, though!"

"I don't know. I was so dizzy I couldn't see him. He seemed very
dark. Is he a Spaniard?"

"Spaniard! No!" Katherine was watching Rhoda's languid eyes half
mischievously. "He's part Mescallero, part Pueblo, part Mohave!"

Rhoda sat erect with flaming face.

"You mean that he's an Indian and I let him carry me! Katherine!"

The mischief in Katherine's brown eyes grew to laughter.

"I thought that would get a rise out of you, you blessed tenderfoot!
What difference does that make? He rescued you from a serious
predicament; and more than that he's a fine fellow and one of Jack's
dearest friends."

Rhoda's delicate face still was flushed.

"An Indian! What did John DeWitt say?"

"Oh!" said Katherine, carelessly, "he offered to drive Kut-le back to
the ditch, and he hasn't got home yet. They probably will be very
congenial, John being a Harvard man and Kut-le a Yale!"

Rhoda's curved lips opened, then closed again. The look of interest
died from her eyes.