The Heart of the Desert

by Honoré Morrow

  CHAPTER XVIII

  THE FORGOTTEN CITY

  Up this tortuous trail Rhoda staggered, closely followed by DeWitt. Ata level spot the girl paused.

  "Water, John! Water!" she cried.

  The two threw themselves down and drank of the bubbling spring untilthey could hold no more. Then Rhoda lay down on the sun-warmed rocksand sleep overwhelmed her.

  She opened her eyes to stare into a yellow moon that floated liquidlyabove her. Whether she had slept through a night and a day or whetherbut a few hours had elapsed since she had staggered to the springbeside which she lay, she could not tell. She lay looking up into thesky languidly, but with clear mind. A deep sigh roused her. DeWittsat on the other side of the spring, rubbing his eyes.

  "Hello!" he said in a hoarse croak. "How did we land here?"

  "I led us here sometime in past ages. When or how, _quien sabe_?"answered Rhoda. "John, we must find food somehow."

  "Drink all the water you can, Rhoda." said DeWitt; "it helps some, andI'll pot a rabbit. What a fool I am. You poor girl! More hardshipsfor you!"

  Rhoda dipped her burning face into the water, then lifted it, dripping.

  "If only you won't be delirious, John, I can stand the hardships."

  DeWitt looked at the girl curiously.

  "Was I delirious? And you were alone, leading me across that Hades outthere? Rhoda dear, you make me ashamed of myself!"

  "I don't see how you were to blame," answered Rhoda stoutly. "Thinkwhat you have been doing for me!"

  John rose stiffly.

  "Do you feel equal to climbing this trail with me, to find where weare, or had you rather stay here?"

  "I don't want to stay here alone," answered Rhoda.

  Very slowly and weakly they started up the trail. The spring was on abroad stone terrace. Above it rose another terrace weathered anddisrupted until in the moonlight it looked like an impregnable castlewall, embattled and embuttressed. But clinging to the seeminglyinvulnerable fortress was the trail, a snake-like shadow in themoonlight.

  "Perhaps we had better stay at the spring until morning," suggestedRhoda, her weak legs flagging.

  "Not with the hope of shelter a hundred feet above us," answered Johnfirmly. "This trail is worn six inches into the solid rock. My guessis that there are some inhabitants here. It's queer that they haven'tdiscovered us."

  Slowly and without further protest, Rhoda followed DeWitt up the trail.Deep-worn and smooth though it was, they accomplished their task withinfinite difficulty. Rhoda, stumbling like a sleep-sodden child,wondered if ever again she was to accomplish physical feats with themagical ease with which Kut-le had endowed her.

  "If he were here, I'd know I was to tumble into a comfortable camp,"she thought. Then with a remorseful glance at DeWitt's patient back,"What a selfish beast you are, Rhoda Tuttle!"

  She reached John's side and together they paused at the top of thetrail. Black against the sky, the moon crowning its top with afrost-like radiance, was a huge flat-topped building. Night birdscircled about it. From black openings in its front owls hooted. Butotherwise there was neither sight nor sound of living thing. Thedesert far below and beyond lay like a sea of death. Rhodaunconsciously drew nearer to DeWitt.

  "Where are the dogs? At Chira the dogs barked all night. Indiansalways have dogs!"

  "It must be very late," whispered DeWitt. "Even the dogs are asleep!"

  "And at Chira," went on Rhoda, whispering as did DeWitt, "owls didn'thoot from the windows."

  "Let's go closer," suggested John.

  Rhoda thrust cold little fingers into his hand.

  The doors were empty and forlorn. The terraced walls, built with thepatient labor of the long ago, were sagged and decayed. Riot ofgreasewood crowned great heaps of debris. A loneliness as of the endof the world came upon the two wanderers. Sick and dismayed, theystood in awe before this relic of the past.

  "_Whoo_! _Whoo_!" an owl's cry sounded from the black window openings.

  DeWitt spoke softly.

  "Rhoda, it's one of the forgotten cities!"

  "Let's go back! Let's go back to the spring!" pleaded Rhoda. "It isso uncanny in the dark!"

  "No!" DeWitt rubbed his aching head wearily. "I must contrive somesort of shelter for you. Almost anything is better than another nightin the open desert. Come on! We will explore a little."

  "Let's wait till morning," begged Rhoda. "I'm so cold and shivery."

  "Dear sweetheart, that's just the point. You will be sick if you don'thave some sort of shelter. You have suffered enough. Will you sithere and let me look about?"

  "No! No! I don't want to be left alone."

  Rhoda followed John closely up into the mass of fallen rock.

  DeWitt smiled. It appealed to the tenderest part of his nature thatthe girl who had led him through the terrible experiences of the desertshould show fear now that a haven was reached.

  "Come on, little girl," he said.

  Painfully, for they both were weak and dizzy, they clambered to a gauntopening in the gray wall. Rhoda clutched John's arm with a littlescream as a bat whirred close by them. Within the opening DeWittscratched one of his carefully hoarded matches. The tiny flarerevealed a small adobe-walled room, quite bare save for broken bits ofpottery on the floor. John lighted a handful of greasewood and by itsbrilliant light they examined the floor and walls.

  "What a clean, dry little room!" exclaimed Rhoda. "Oh, I am so tiredand sleepy!"

  "Let's look a little farther before we stop. What's on the other sideof this broken wall?"

  They picked their way across the litter of pottery and peered intoanother room, the duplicate of the first.

  "How will these do for our respective sleeping-rooms?" asked DeWitt.

  Rhoda stared at John with horror in her eyes.

  "I'd as soon sleep in a tomb! Let's make a fire outside and sleepunder the stars. I'd rather have sleep than food just now."

  "It will have to be just a tiny smudge, up behind this debris, whereKut-le can't spot it," answered DeWitt. "I won't mind having a red eyeof fire for company. It will help to keep me awake."

  "But you must sleep," protested Rhoda.

  "But I mustn't," answered John grimly. "I've played the baby act onthis picnic as much as I propose to. It is my trick at the wheel."

  Too weary to protest further, Rhoda threw herself down with her feettoward the fire and pillowed her head on her arm. DeWitt filled hispipe and sat puffing it, with his arms folded across his knees. Rhodawatched him for a moment or two. She found herself admiring the fullforehead, the lines of refinement about the lips that the beard couldnot fully conceal.

  "He's not as handsome as Kut-le," she thought wearily, "buthe's--he's--" but before her thought was completed she was asleep.

  Rhoda woke at dawn and lay waiting for the stir of the squaws about themorning meal. Then with a start she rose and looked soberly about her.Suddenly she smiled.

  "Tenderfoot!" she murmured.

  DeWitt lay fast asleep by the ashes of the fire.

  "If Kut-le," she thought. Then she stopped abruptly and stamped herfoot. "You are not even to think of Kut-le any more!" And with hercleft chin very firm she descended the trail to the spring. When shereturned, DeWitt was rising stiffly to his feet.

  "Hello!" he cried. "I was good this time. I never closed my eyes tilldawn. I'm so hungry I could eat greasewood. How do you feel?"

  "Weak with hunger but otherwise very well. Go wash your face, Johnny."

  DeWitt grinned and started down the trail obediently. But Rhoda laid adetaining hand on his arm. The sun was but a moment high. All themesa front lay in purple shadows, though farther out the desert glowedwith the yellow light of a new day.

  "I think animals come to the spring to drink," said Rhoda. "There weretiny wet footmarks there when I went down to wash my face."

  "Bully!" exclaimed John. "Wait now, let's watch."

  The
two dropped to the ground and peered over the edge of the upperterrace. The spring bubbled forth serenely, followed its shallowtrough a short distance, then disappeared into the insatiable floor ofthe desert. For several moments the two lay watching until at lastRhoda grew restless. DeWitt laid a detaining hand on her arm.

  "Hush!" he whispered.

  A pair of jack-rabbits loped up the trail, sniffed the air tentatively,then with forelegs in the water drank greedily. DeWitt's right armstiffened, there were two puffs of smoke and the two kicking rabbitsrolled into the spring.

  "I'm beginning to have a little self-respect as the man of the party,"said DeWitt, as he blew the smoke from his Colt.

  Rhoda ran down to the spring and lifted the two wet little bodies.John took them from her.

  "If you'll find some place for a table, I'll bring these up in no time."

  When DeWitt came up from the spring with the dressed rabbits, he founda little fire glowing between two rocks. Near by on a big flat-toppedstone were set forth two earthen bowls, with a brown water-jar in thecenter. As he stared, Rhoda came out of the building with interestedface.

  "Look, John! See what I found on a little corner shelf!" She held inher outstretched hand a tiny jar no bigger than a wine-glass. It wasof an exquisitely polished black. "Not even an explorer can have beenhere, or nothing so perfect as this would have been left! What handsdo you suppose made this!"

  But DeWitt did not answer her question.

  "Now, look here, Rhoda, you aren't to do anything like starting a fireand lugging these heavy jars again! You're not with the Indians now.You've got a man to wait on you!"

  Rhoda looked at him curiously.

  "But I've learned to like to do it!" she protested. "Nobody can roasta rabbit to suit me but myself," and in spite of DeWitt's protests shespitted the rabbits and would not let him tend the fire which she saidwas too fine an art for his untrained hands. In a short time the richodor of roasting flesh rose on the air and John watched the pretty cookwith admiration mingled with perplexity. Rhoda insisting on cooking ameal! More than that, Rhoda evidently enjoying the job! The idea lefthim speechless.

  An hour after Rhoda had spitted the game, John sighed with contentmentas he looked at the pile of bones beside his earthen bowl.

  "And they say jacks aren't good eating!" he said. "Why if they hadbeen salted they would have been better than any game I ever ate!"

  "You never were so hungry before," said Rhoda. "Still, they were wellroasted, now weren't they?"

  "Your vanity is colossal, Miss Tuttle," laughed John, "but I will admitthat I never saw better roasting." Then he said soberly, "I believe wehad better not try the trail again today, Rhoda dear. We don't knowwhere to go and we've no supplies. We'd better get our strength up,resting here today, and tomorrow start in good shape."

  Rhoda looked wistfully from the shade of the pueblo out over thedesert. She had become very, very tired of this endless fleeing.

  "I wish the Newman ranch was just over beyond," she said. "John, whatwill you do if Kut-le comes on us here?"

  DeWitt's forehead burned a painful red.

  "I have a shot left in my revolver," he said.

  Rhoda walked ever to John and put one hand on his shoulder as he satlooking up at her with somber blue eyes.

  "John," she said, "I want you to promise me that you will fire atKut-le only in the last extremity to keep him from carrying me off, andthat you will shoot only as Porter did, to lame and not to kill."

  John's jaws came together and he returned the girl's scrutiny with asteel-like glance.

  "Why do you plead for him?" he asked finally.

  "He saved my life," she answered simply.

  John rose and walked up and down restlessly.

  "Rhoda, if a white man had done this thing I would shoot him as I woulda dog. What do I care for a law in a case like this! We were men longbefore we had laws. Why should this Indian be let go when he has donewhat a white would be shot for?"

  Rhoda looked at him keenly.

  "You talk as if in your heart you knew you were going to kill himbecause he is an Indian and were trying to justify yourself for it!"

  He turned on the girl a look so haunted, so miserable, yet sodetermined, that her heart sank. For a time there was silence, eachafraid to speak. At last Rhoda said coolly:

  "Will you get fresh water while I bank in the fire?"

  DeWitt's face relaxed. He smiled a little grimly.

  "I'll do anything for you but that one thing--promise not to kill theIndian."

  "The desert has changed us both, John," said Rhoda. "It has taken theveneer off both of us!"

  "Maybe so," replied DeWitt. "I only know that that Apache must pay forthe hell you and I have lived through."

  "Look at me, John!" cried Rhoda. "Can't you realize that the goodKut-le has done me has been far greater than his affront to me? Do yousee how well I am, how strong? Oh, if I could only make you see what adifferent world I live in! You would have been tied to an invalid,John, if Kut-le hadn't stolen me! Think now of all I can do for you!Of the home I can make, of the work I can do!"

  DeWitt answered tersely.

  "I'm mighty glad you're well, but only for your own sake and because Ican have you longer. I don't want you to work for me. I'll do all theworking that's done in our family!"

  "But," protested Rhoda, "that's just keeping me lazy and selfish!"

  "You couldn't be selfish if you tried. You pay your way with yourbeauty. When I think of that Apache devil having the joy of you allthis time, watching you grow back to health, taking care of you,carrying you, it makes me feel like a cave man. I could kill him witha club! Thank heaven, the lynch law can hold in this forsaken spot!And there isn't a man in the country but will back me up, not a jurythat would find me guilty!"

  Rhoda sat in utter consternation. The power of the desert to lay barethe human soul appalled her. This was a DeWitt that the East nevercould have shown her. It sickened her as she realized that no words ofhers could sway this man; to realize that she was trying to stay withher feeble feminine hands passions that were as old a world-force aslove itself. All her new-found strength seemed inadequate to solvethis new problem.