The scene is nightfall, and the rough sides of Yainax glow with the reflection of fires that flame in the valley which worships at its feet. Around these fires the mingling throngs of savages still engage in busy life, the traffic of the day being succeeded by the dissipation of the night. Here the gamblers watch with eager eyes the progress of a game that has been superseded since by more-civilized allurements, for the only work of modern times the Indian studies with fair comprehension is the ever-changing history of the four kings, and that they interpret to suit themselves, reading therein games no white man ever invented. It may be morning before the game breaks up, and some may leave it poor who came there rich–may steal away with scarce a breechcloth, though they came there clad in all the pomp and circumstance of savage finery.
