There was protest in his voice against Rhoda's being interested in an
Indian's suggestion. Both Rhoda and Cartwell felt this and there was
an awkward pause. This was broken by a faint halloo from the corral
and DeWitt rose abruptly.

"I'll go down and meet Jack," he said.

"We'll do a lot of stunts if you're willing," Cartwell said serenely,
his eyes following DeWitt's broad back inscrutably. "The desert is
like a story-book if one learns to read it. If you would be interested
to learn, I would be keen to teach you."

Rhoda's gray eyes lifted to the young man's somberly.

"I'm too dull these days to learn anything," she said. "But I--I
didn't used to be! Truly I didn't! I used to be so alive, so strong!
I believed in everything, myself most of all! Truly I did!" She
paused, wondering at her lack of reticence.

Cartwell, however, was looking at her with something in his gaze so
quietly understanding that Rhoda smiled. It was a slow smile that
lifted and deepened the corners of Rhoda's lips, that darkened her gray
eyes to black, an unforgetable smile to the loveliness of which Rhoda's
friends never could accustom themselves. At the sight of it, Cartwell
drew a deep breath, then leaned toward her and spoke with curious
earnestness.

"You make me feel the same way that starlight on the desert makes me
feel."