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Again it was long before Rhoda slept Through herthere floated the sound of song, the evening singing of Indian lads in the village street There was a vibrant quality in their voices that Rhoda could liken only to the ed instruro voice nor the flute-like sweetness of the white, yet the voices co quality of violin notes

Thefor she knew not what It see past a misty veil into the childhood of the world to whose sihts civilization hadvoices chanted slower and slower Rhoda stirred uneasily To be free again as these voices were free! Not to long for the civilization she had left but for open skies and trails! To be free again!

As the voices uitar was touched softly under Rhoda'sand Kut-le's voice rose in La Golondrina: "Whither so swiftly flies the ti? To reach her nest what needle does she follow When darkness wraps the poor wee stor?"

Rhoda stirred restlessly and threw her arms above her head

"To build her nest near to e skies to seek? Safe would she be, no evil should befall her, For I'm an exile sad, too sad to weep!"

Mist-like floated across Rhoda'sbird at daith stars and the night wind and the open way And going before, always Kut-le--Kut-le of the unfathoentle touch The ed itself into Rhoda's drea day on the roof Curled on her Navajo she watched the changing tones on the mountains and listened to the soft voices of the Pueblo women in the street below Naked brown babies climbed up and down the ladders and paddled in the shallow river Indian women with scarlet shawls across their shoulders filled their ollas at the river and stood gossiping, the bri the ed to the alfalfa and reeted joyfully by the women and children

Kut-le spent the day at Rhoda's side They talked but little, though Rhoda had definitely abandoned her rule of silence toward the Indian Herwhy she so enjoyed watching the life in this Indian town and why she was not one