ging, singing! The mountains were as clearly and
definitely blue as the heavens. That revelation of ranges on the far
horizon unaccustomed to the view, only vouchsafed by some necromancy of
the clarified autumnal air, never before seemed so distinct, so
alluring--new lands, new hopes, new life they suggested. Wyejah's
scarlet attire, its fringes tasseled with the spurs of the wild turkey,
rendered his lithe figure strongly marked against these illusory
ethereal tints as he sped abreast with Otasite along the level sandy
stretch of the chungke-yard. And how well he played! Varney realized
this with a satisfaction as of having already won his wagers, many and
large, for Otasite would leave the nation should he be victorious, and
having drunk unwittingly of Herbert's Spring, he could not quit the
Cherokee country, although he himself was still unaware of having
quaffed of those mystic waters. Therefore defeat was obviously his
portion. Whenever the trader thought anew of his secret knowledge of
this fact he offered odds on Wyejah, and glanced at him with
approbation--at the young Indian warrior's face fiercely, eagerly
smiling, his great flattened ears distended on their wire hoops, his
dark eyes full of sombre brilliance. How well he played! and how hard
the skill of his opponent pressed him! How accurate was the aim of the
long lance of Otasite as he poised his weight on the supple tips of his
white moccasins and hurled the missile through the air; how strong and
firm his grasp that sent the circular, quartz chungke-stone, whirling
along the sand; how tirelessly his long sinewy steps sped back and forth
in the swift dashes up and down the smooth spaces of the chungke-yard;
how faithfully he was doing his best, regardless of his own preference
in the interests that he had adventured on the result! How like a Briton
born it was, Abram Varney thought, for he alone knew of Otasite's
resolution, and the significance of the game to him, that the boy could
thus see fair play between the factions that warred within him for his
future. He had staked the future on the event,--and suddenly it was the
present!

A wild clamor of excitement, of applause, rose up from the throats of
the crowd in the natural amphitheatre, clanging and clattering in long
guttural cries,--all intensified by a relish of the unexpected, a joy in
a new sensation, for Wyejah had never before been beaten, and Otasite
was the victor at chungke.

Abram Varney