The Bismarck tribune. [volume] (Bismarck, N.D.) 1916-current, 1932-08-29

brain. Look. They are mad to be
off. Let us begin"
Morales nodded to the starter.
Five vicious, impatient horses were
drawing gradually to the line. Slow.
ly they drew abreast of the stand.
prancing, plunging, held in by the
iron hands of their riders. Then a
shot and shout from the crowd, and
like arrows the FIVE were away in a
swirl of sand.
From the very first Tito led. The
Indian Numbered on his flank, riding
easily, saving himself for the plunge.
In a moment they had flashed into
the yellow waters of the river, forc-
ing their maddened horses with
voices and rawhide. White foam
swirled before them, and from both
banks rose the frenzied cheering of
their followers. Together they strug.
gled through the water. and in an
other moment were fighting their
way up the gravelly bank. Not ten
feet separated the two leaders. Be-
hind, hopelessly beaten. struggled the
other three. The long, killing climb
lay ahead. Already from where Ted
and the girl stood those plunging
horses looked like toy things. striv.
ing desperately upward. always the
black stallion of Tito ahead, yet never
for an instant drawing away from
the Indian who rode so surely be-
hind him.
At the turn of the rocks, Jito's
horse slipped to his knees. forcing
his heavy rider almost out of the
saddle. as they all but fell. Shaking
his head, the big stallion lunged to
his feet, but in that lost second the
Indian had swept past, and the shrill
yells of his f-llowers redoubled. The
crowd below was now a moving,
crazy riot of sound. The end was
in sight. At breakneck speed the two
riders pounded down the long slope
to where the river bank rose ten
feet about the bend of the stream.
Adela raised her hands to her lips.
IF they strike the water at that
speed. they'll kill themselves" she
whispered.
A few yards from the river the
Yaqui refined in his pinto for the
steep descent and, amid clatter of
loose pebbles, slipped perilously to
the waters edge. AS horse and rider
reached the stream a black form
leaped by them, almost over them,
and struck the water with a crash
and cloud of spray. A gasp and .
shudder ran through the throng. Tito
had taken the river at top speedl
For an instant the water closed
over his horses head, then the great
stallion snorted to the surface and
plunged toward the far bank. Again
Tito was leading.
Wild with delight the vaqueros
cried his name, casting sombreros
and quirts into the resounding air.
Yet even now there was too seaut
a distance between the riders to tell
who might win. The mouths of the
n,addened horses foamed white as.
ears back and wild-eyed. they lashed
through the muddy stream. Almost
as one, the dripping stallion and the
Yaqui mare lunged up the bank. and
with last wild burst made for the
finish. Together the riders Numbered
onward. beating the wet forms Of
their horses. grinding their heels
into the horses sides. Together they
flashed past the finish line.
A silence, sudden and absolute,
followed. Expectantly all eyes turned
toward the judges stand. A world of
eager faces strained up to hear his
words.
Morales raised his hand. "Jito."
he announced briefly.
The air was split with sound.
Like madmen Morales's vaqueros
whooped their joy and emptied their
revolvers into the air. The Indians
fell silent. cloaking whatever feelings
they might possess beneath stolid.
impassivc faces.