"Why, man, he's an Injun, and half Apache at that! That's enough to know against him!" "What makes you think he's interested in Miss Tuttle?" asked John. Porter flushed through his tan. "Well," he said sheepishly, "I seen him come down the hall at dawn this morning. Us Westerners are early risers, you know, and when he reached Miss Turtle's door, he pulled a little slipper out of his pocket and kissed it and put it in front of the sill." DeWitt scowled, then he laughed. "He's no worse than the rest of us that way! I'll watch, him, though perhaps it's only your prejudice against Indians and not really a matter to worry about." Porter sighed helplessly. "All right! All right! Just remember, DeWitt, I warned you!" He mounted, then held in his horse while the worried look gave place to one so sad, yet so manly, that John never forgot it. "I hope you appreciate that girl, DeWitt. She—she's a thoroughbred! My God! When you think of a sweet thing like that dying and these Injun squaws living! I hope you'll watch her, DeWitt. If anything happens to her through you not watching her, I'll come back on you for it! I ain't got any rights except the rights that any living man has got to take care of any white thing like her. They get me hard when they're dainty like that. And she's the daintiest I ever seen!" He rode away, shaking his head ominously. CHAPTER III INDIAN AND CAUCASIAN DeWitt debated with himself for some time as to whether or not he ought to speak to Jack of Porter's warning. Finally he decided that Porter's suspicions would only anger Jack, who was intensely loyal to his friends. He determined to keep silence until he had something more tangible on which to found his complaint than Billy's bitter prejudice against all Indians. He had implicit faith in Rhoda's love for himself. If any vague interest in life could come to her through the young Indian, he felt that he could endure his presence. In the meantime he would guard Rhoda without cessation.
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