"Well," she said in her usual weary voice, "I think I'll have a glass of milk, if I may. Then I'll go out on the porch. You see I'm being all the trouble to you, Katherine, that I said I would be." 

 "Trouble!" protested Katherine.  "Why, Rhoda Tuttle, if I could just see you with the old light in your eyes I'd wait on you by inches on my knees. I would, honestly." 

 Rhoda rubbed a thin cheek against the warm hand that still held hers, and the mute thanks said more than words. 

 The veranda of the Newman ranch-house was deep and shaded by green vines. From the hammock where she lay, a delicate figure amid the vivid cushions, Rhoda looked upon a landscape that combined all the perfection of verdure of a northern park with a sense of illimitable breathing space that should have been fairly intoxicating to her. Two huge cottonwoods stood beside the porch. Beyond the lawn lay the peach orchard which vied with the bordering alfalfa fields in fragrance and color. The yellow-brown of tree-trunks and the white of grazing sheep against vegetation of richest green were astonishing colors for Rhoda to find in the desert to which she had been exiled, and in the few days since her arrival she had not ceased to wonder at them. 

 DeWitt crossed the orchard, quickening his pace when he saw Rhoda. He was a tall fellow, blond and well built, though not so tall and lithe as Cartwell. His dark blue eyes were disconcertingly clear and direct. 

 "Well, Rhoda dear!" he exclaimed as he hurried up the steps.  "If you didn't scare this family! How are you feeling now?" 

 "I'm all right," Rhoda answered languidly.  "It was good of you all to bother so about me. What have you been doing all day?" 

 "Over at the ditch with Jack and Cartwell. Say, Rhoda, the young fellow who rescued you is an Indian!" 

 DeWitt dropped into a big chair by the hammock. He watched the girl hopefully. It was such a long, long time since she had been interested in anything! But there was no responsive light in the deep gray eyes. 

 "Katherine told me," she replied. Then, after a pause, as if she felt it her duty to make conversation, "Did you like him?" 

 DeWitt spoke slowly, as if he had been considering the matter. 

 "I've a lot of race prejudice in me, Rhoda. I don't like niggers or Chinamen or 

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