Indian's deep black eyes, Rhoda felt within herself a vague stirring that for a second wiped the languor from her eyes. 

 Cartwell spoke first, easily, in the quiet, well-modulated voice of the Indian. 

 "Hello! All safe, I see! Mr. Newman will be here shortly."  He seated himself on the upper step with his back against a pillar and fanned himself with his hat.  "Jack's working too hard. I want him to go to the coast for a while and let me run the ditch. But he won't. He's as pig-headed as a Mohave." 

 "Are the Mohaves so pig-headed then?" asked DeWitt, smiling. 

 Cartwell returned the smile with a flash of white teeth. 

 "You bet they are! My mother was part Mohave and she used to say that only the Pueblo in her kept her from being as stiff-necked as yucca. You're all over the dizziness, Miss Tuttle?" 

 "Yes," said Rhoda.  "You were very good to me." 

 Cartwell shook his head. 

 "I'm afraid I can't take special credit for that. Will you two ride to the ditch with me tomorrow? I think Miss Tuttle will be interested in Jack's irrigation dream, don't you, Mr. DeWitt?" 

 DeWitt answered a little stiffly. 

 "It's out of the question for Miss Tuttle to attempt such a trip, thank you." 

 But to her own as well as DeWitt's astonishment Rhoda spoke protestingly. 

 "You must let me refuse my own invitations, John. Perhaps the ditch would interest me." 

 DeWitt replied hastily, "Good gracious, Rhoda! If anything will interest you, don't let me interfere." 

 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 

 Prev. P 10/172 next