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"Come, John, ill soon be there We can't keep on this way forever and not reach some place Please coreen pastures He leadeth me beside still waters He restoreth my soul--'"

"Perhaps there will be water there! O John, dear John, if you love me, come!"

"I don't love you, little boy! I love Rhoda Tuttle

"O for a draught of vintage that hath been Cooled a long age in deep delved earth!"

"Please, John! I'ered to his feet and stood swaying

"God help me!" he said "I can do no more!"

"Yes, you can, John! Yes, you can! Perhaps there is a whole fountain of water there on the lazed look returned to DeWitt's eyes

"'Or the pitcher be broken at the fountain,'" he muttered, "'or the wheel broken at the cistern--or the pitcher broken at the fountain, or the wheel--'"

Rhoda threw her arm across her eyes

"Oh, not that, John! I can't bear that one!"

Again, she stood upon the roof at Chira, looking up into Kut-le's face Again the loailing of the Indian woer of those dear black eyes Again the sense of protection and content in his nearness

"O Kut-le! Kut-le!" she moaned

Instantly sanity returned to John's eyes

"Why did you say Kut-le?" he de of him?"

"Yes," answered Rhoda siled on bravely to the crest of the next dune

"I hate that Apache devil!" heto kill hiic of Kut-le's name

"Why should you want to kill Kut-le?" she asked as Dewitt paused at the top of the next dune Instantly he started on

"Because I hate him! I hate him, the devil!"

"See how near the mesa is, John! Only a little way! Kut-le would say ere poor stuff!"

"No doubt! Well, I'll let a gun give him my opinion of hiainst the wall of a giantthe wall and stu upward