"Yat" [pp. 489-495]

49o
"Maria," but so she was called. She
belonged to a different camp from Yat's -
the Penn Valley tribe, who dwelt a few
miles away over the hills. She was of
slight figure, graceful in a certain Indian
way, but not very pretty. Her hair was
straight, and fell in a tangled mass about
her shoulders; her nose was flat, her
mouth wide, and her eyebrows heavy
and black. But the dark, quick eyes
and the mocking smile that always lurked
around her mouth made the face attractive.
Yat loved it and hoped sometime to see
it smiling at him in his own house. But
there was another who loved that face,
and as he belonged to the girl's own
tribe, he had more opportunity to woo
her. This young man's name was
George, and he was the son of a subchief. More than that, he was quite an
athlete himself and had won some distinction in competitive sports with other
tribes. So when the third day of the
big fandango came and it was announced
that Yat and George would run a race,
there was much speculation as to who
would win. The Pleasant Valleys, even
to the last of those jealous of Yat's prowess, stood up for their champion, and the
Penn Valleys did the same in regard to
George. So there were many bets up
and good prizes had been offered for the
winner.
But there was one prize which only
three persons knew anything about.
The two rivals did not forget this when
they stripped for the race and passed
around so they could walk out by Maria.
She sat at the lower end of the course
where she could see the winner as he
came over the line. Her gala dress, a
bright new calico, showed off her native
charms to the best and her eyes were
dancing. She tossed her shiny black
hair back from her face every little
while and beat her foot restlessly. She
was the third person who knew of that
prize. As Yat passed her she leaned
towards him and whispered, "Win,
Yat."
He smiled proudly and walked on up
the course with confident bearing. Just
behind him came George, and as he went
by she whispered to him also, and
although she said but one little word his
heart beat high with hope; for that word
was also, "Win."
They stood braced for the signal to go.
From where Maria was they appeared as
two specks. Suddenly the specks moved,
and soon became two men running in an
easy trot. The wind floated their black
hair back from their faces and the sun
shone on their bare shoulders. Steadily
and slowly they came, their bent arms
held closely to their sides and their bodies bending forward. Then their speed
began to increase and their positions to
change. Suddenly one of the spectators,
a Penn Valley Indian, yelled; the racers
were on the home stretch, and George
was slightly ahead. Then a Pleasant
Valley Indian shouted something and
cheered; Yat had drawn up even with
George. Now came the tug, and great
was the excitement. The heavy lines
on each side of the course surged to
and fro, the Indians yelling savagely.
Slowly George began to draw ahead.
His face was set and his every muscle
was strained. Just before him was the
line- and Maria - and he was straining
every nerve to reach them ahead of his
rival. So near were they coming that
she could see the set look on their faces,
the muscle-shadows on their bodies, and
hear the swiftly increasing "plut-a-plut"
of their feet in the soft dust. The Penn
Valleys yelled like demons now, and the
Pleasant Valleys became silent. But not
for long. Suddenly the latter burst into
a very roar of cheers, for Yat, their own
Yat, gathering himself to one mighty