her own camp on the edge of a sharp declivity, choosing the spot because it afforded her a clear view of their twinkling campfire.
She made no fire of her own, but consumed the last of the provisions she had brought with her from the Pullman, then wrapped herself in a blanket and lay down to rest, her last conscious act the wafting of a kiss down to the depths whose shadows hid the man she loved.
The level shafts of the rising sun awakened her, and of a sudden she started up, surprised, by the grating of footsteps on the rocks behind her.
Before she could turn she was caught and wrapped in the arms of Hopi Jim. His face of bronze bent over her, smiling in the triumph of his cunning; his breath fanned her cheek, hot with his desire; his lips threatened hers imminently. …
Only for an instant she remained motionless in the man's embrace. Then, without warning, she was like a steel spring that he sought to supple to his will. She fought like a wildcat, kicking, biting, tearing, scratching, sobbing, panting, despairing—and fought but the more fiercely as despair grew more dark in her consciousness.
She mustered all her strength and wits and will for one last struggle, and in a frenzied moment managed to break his hold a trifle, enough to enable
