Page:The Indian Dispossessed.pdf/278

Dividing the Spoils in the hot sun before his feverish eyes, and mutters, "Mine, mine!"

Which of these two is the more miserable victim of the Government's gambling scheme?

Evening comes, and with it the wind dies down. The dry air quickly cools. The great rush has left its members scattered over the prairie—far too many of them for the rewards it had to offer, but the interminable fights, disputes, and lawsuits over the spoils are for other days. A short communion with the pail of cold grub and the canteen of warm water; then to the blankets, under nature's canopy.

It is a glorious, still night out on the prairie. The heat, the dust, and the wild excitement seem like unpleasant incidents of long ago. The heavens in that clear, dry atmosphere are fairly ablaze with stars; one cannot gaze into their quiet depths and realize that within the past few hours one hundred thousand men have indulged the, fiercest of human passions, and for higher stakes than they have ever before dreamed of. But relaxation comes after unnatural stress, and men begin to know how tired they are; so winners and losers alike roll up in their blankets to sleep. The delicious calm of the night is made weird by the far-off, long-drawn-out cries of the boomers, calling the numbers of their land: "My—number—is—section—township—range—. K-e-e-p—o-f-f!" Then, after each call, crack! goes a rifle, as added warning; now from one