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In this painful position, with a Jarocho standing over each of us, we passed the remainder of the night. Griffe, a cross-breed between a negro and a Carib. Manga, a jacket with loose sleeves. It was a long night the longest I can remember a night that fully illustrated the horror of monotony. I can compare our feelings to those of one under the influence of the nightmare. But, no worse than that.
As lightly as a lady touches her cavalier, he seemed to touch Sandoval; but the brute fell like a stone at his feet. What a storm of vivas! What clapping of hands and shouts of 'valiente! And the ladies flung their flowers, and the men flung their hats into the arena, and Jarocho stepped proudly enough on them, I can tell you, though he was watching the door for the next bull."
"Ah, Senor, why will men fight each other, when it is so much more grand and interesting to fight bulls?" "Senorita Isabel, if you could only convince them of that! But then, it is not always interesting to the matadore; for instance, it is only by the mercy of God and the skill of an Americano that Jarocho is at this moment out of purgatory."
Oyez, Padre Jarauta!" continued he, calling out in a tone of irony; "have you found Marguerita yet?" We could see between us and the dim rushlight that the Jarocho started, as if a shot had passed through his heart. "Hold!" he shouted to the men, who were about taking aim; "drag those scoundrels hither! A light there! fire the thatch! Vaya!"
His eyeballs were living fire; his nostrils steamed with fury; well, then, at the precise moment, Jarocho put his slippered feet between his horns, and vaulted, light as a bird flies, over his back. Then Sandoval turned to him again. Well, he calmly waited for his approach, and his long sword met him between the horns.
You could see by the gleam in his eyes that he took in the whole scene, and considered not only the people in the ring, but the people in the amphitheatre also, to be his tormentors. Perhaps in that reflection he was not mistaken. He meant mischief from the beginning; and he pressed Jarocho so close that he leaped the barrier for safety. As he leaped, Saint Jago leaped also.
"However, I could not refrain myself, and I said: 'Permit me, Colonel Crockett, to honor you. The great feat of to-day's fight was yours. San Antonio owes you for her favorite Jarocho."
"Yes, Captain," repeated the Jarocho, moving only his lips. "You will have them at the Eagle's Cave by six in the morning; by six, do you hear?" "Yes, Captain," again replied the subordinate. "And if any of them is missing is missing, do you hear?" "Yes, Captain." "You will take his place in the dance the dance ha! ha! ha! You understand that, Lopez?" "Yes, Captain."
The latter seemed to enjoy the interlude; for he lay upon the ground, looking up at the Jarocho with a smile of triumph upon his reckless features. We were expecting the next speech of the padre to be an order for flinging us into the fire, which now burned fiercely. Fortunately, this fancy did not seem to strike him just then. "Ha, monsieur!" exclaimed he at length, approaching Raoul.
"Enough then, good Lopez handsome Lopez! beautiful Lopez! enough, and good-night to you!" So saying, the Jarocho drew his quirt several times across the red cheek of Raoul, and with a curse upon his lips he leaped upon his mustang and galloped off.
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