Shit! Shit Shit Shit! Literally FIVE MINUTES past the International Date Line when I realized. For what it’s worth, I went an entire half year, 183 days of a Leap Year, before officially missing a day without even being able to plead a loophole.
Tappan’s Burro and Other Stories
Yaqui
Zane Grey
To live, to have his people round him, to see his dusky-eyed wife at her work, to watch the little naked children playing in the grass, to look out over that rolling, endless green valley, so wild, so lonely, so fertile–such a proof of god in the desert–to feel the hot sun and the sweet wind and the cool night, to linger on the heights watching, listening, feeling, to stalk the keen-eyed mountain sheep, to eat fresh meat and drink pure water, to rest through the solemn still noons and sleep away the silent melancholy nights, to enjoy the games of his forefathers–wild games of riding and running–to steal off alone into the desert and endure heat, thirst, cold, dust, starvation while he sought the Indian gods hidden in the rocks, to be free of the white man whom he recognized as a superior and a baser being–to live like the eagles–to live–Yaqui asked no more.
Yaqui laid the baby back in the cradle of its mother’s breast and stalked out as a chief to inspire his people.
In that high altitude the morning air was cold, exhilarating, sweet to breathe and wonderful to send the blood racing. Some winter mornings there was just a touch of frost on the leaves. The sunshine was welcome, the day was short, the night was long. Yaqui’s people reverted to their old order of happy primitive life before the white man had come with greed for gold and lust to kill.
The day dawned in which Yaqui took his son out and put him upon a horse. As horsemen the Yaquis excelled all other Indian tribes of the Southwest.
Out of Context 
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