THE MADNESS OF JOHN HARNED
I TELL this for a fact. It happened in the bull-ring at Quito. I satin the box with John Harned, and with Maria Valenzuela, and with LuisCervallos. I saw it happen. I saw it all from first to last. I was onthe steamer Ecuadore from Panama to Guayaquil. Maria Valenzuela ismy cousin. I have known her always. She is very beautiful. I am aSpaniard--an Ecuadoriano, true, but I am descended from Pedro Patino,who was one of Pizarro's captains. They were brave men. They wereheroes. Did not Pizarro lead three hundred and fifty Spanish cavaliersand four thousand Indians into the far Cordilleras in search oftreasure? And did not all the four thousand Indians and three hundredof the brave cavaliers die on that vain quest? But Pedro Patino didnot die. He it was that lived to found the family of the Patino. I amEcuadoriano, true, but I am Spanish. I am Manuel de Jesus Patino. I ownmany haciendas, and ten thousand Indians are my slaves, though the lawsays they are free men who work by freedom of contract. The law is afunny thing. We Ecuadorianos laugh at it. It is our law. We make it forourselves. I am Manuel de Jesus Patino. Remember that name. It will bewritten some day in history. There are revolutions in Ecuador. We callthem elections. It is a good joke is it not?--what you call a pun?
John Harned was an American. I met him first at the Tivoli hotel inPanama. He had much money--this I have heard. He was going to Lima,but he met Maria Valenzuela in the Tivoli hotel. Maria Valenzuela ismy cousin, and she is beautiful. It is true, she is the most beautifulwoman in Ecuador. But also is she most beautiful in every country--inParis, in Madrid, in New York, in Vienna. Always do all men look at her,and John Harned looked long at her at Panama. He loved her, that I knowfor a fact. She was Ecuadoriano, true--but she was of all countries; shewas of all the world. She spoke many languages. She sang--ah! like anartiste. Her smile--wonderful, divine. Her eyes--ah! have I not seenmen look in her eyes? They were what you English call amazing. They werepromises of paradise. Men drowned themselves in her eyes.
Maria Valenzuela was rich--richer than I, who am accounted very rich inEcuador. But John Harned did not care for her money. He had a heart--afunny heart. He was a fool. He did not go to Lima. He left the steamerat Guayaquil and followed her to Quito. She was coming home from Europeand other places. I do not see what she found in him, but she liked him.This I know for a fact, else he would not have followed her to Quito.She asked him to come. Well do I remember the occasion. She said:
"Come to Quito and I will show you the bullfight--brave, clever,magnificent!"
But he said: "I go to Lima, not Quito. Such is my passage engaged on thesteamer."
"You travel for pleasure--no?" said Maria Valenzuela; and she looked athim as only Maria Valenzuela could look, her eyes warm with the promise.
And he came. No; he did not come for the bull-fight. He came because ofwhat he had seen in her eyes. Women like Maria Valenzuela are born oncein a hundred years. They are of no country and no time. They are whatyou call goddesses. Men fall down at their feet. They play with men andrun them through their pretty fingers like sand. Cleopatra was such awoman they say; and so was Circe. She turned men into swine. Ha! ha! Itis true--no?
It all came about because Maria Valenzuela said:
"You English people are--what shall I say?--savage--no? You prize-fight.Two men each hit the other with their fists till their eyes are blindedand their noses are broken. Hideous! And the other men who look on cryout loudly and are made glad. It is barbarous--no?"
"But they are men," said John Harned; "and they prize-fight out ofdesire. No one makes them prize-fight. They do it because they desire itmore than anything else in the world."
Maria Valenzuela--there was scorn in her smile as she said: "They killeach other often--is it not so? I have read it in the papers."
"But the bull," said John Harned.
"The bull is killed many times in the bull-fight, and the bull does notcome into the the ring out of desire. It is not fair to the bull. Heis compelled to fight. But the man in the prize-fight--no; he is notcompelled."
"He is the more brute therefore," said Maria Valenzuela.
"He is savage. He is primitive. He is animal. He strikes with his pawslike a bear from a cave, and he is ferocious. But the bull-fight--ah!You have not seen the bullfight--no? The toreador is clever. He musthave skill. He is modern. He is romantic. He is only a man, soft andtender, and he faces the wild bull in conflict. And he kills with asword, a slender sword, with one thrust, so, to the heart of the greatbeast. It is delicious. It makes the heart beat to behold--the smallman, the great beast, the wide level sand, the thousands that look onwithout breath; the great beast rushes to the attack, the small manstands like a statue; he does not move, he is unafraid, and in his handis the slender sword flashing like silver in the sun; nearer and nearerrushes the great beast with its sharp horns, the man does not move, andthen--so--the sword flashes, the thrust is made, to the heart, to thehilt, the bull falls to the sand and is dead, and the man is unhurt. Itis brave. It is magnificent! Ah!--I could love the toreador. But theman of the prize-fight--he is the brute, the human beast, the savageprimitive, the maniac that receives many blows in his stupid face andrejoices. Come to Quito and I will show you the brave sport of men, thetoreador and the bull."
But John Harned did not go to Quito for the bull-fight. He went becauseof Maria Valenzuela. He was a large man, more broad of shoulder thanwe Ecuadorianos, more tall, more heavy of limb and bone. True, he waslarger of his own race. His eyes were blue, though I have seen themgray, and, sometimes, like cold steel. His features were large, too--notdelicate like ours, and his jaw was very strong to look at. Also, hisface was smooth-shaven like a priest's. Why should a man feel shame forthe hair on his face? Did not God put it there? Yes, I believe in God--Iam not a pagan like many of you English. God is good. He made me anEcuadoriano with ten thousand slaves. And when I die I shall go to God.Yes, the priests are right.
But John Harned. He was a quiet man. He talked always in a low voice,and he never moved his hands when he talked. One would have thought hisheart was a piece of ice; yet did he have a streak of warm in his blood,for he followed Maria Valenzuela to Quito. Also, and for all that hetalked low without moving his hands, he was an animal, as you shallsee--the beast primitive, the stupid, ferocious savage of the long agothat dressed in wild skins and lived in the caves along with the bearsand wolves.
Luis Cervallos is my friend, the best of Ecuadorianos. He owns threecacao plantations at Naranjito and Chobo. At Milagro is his big sugarplantation. He has large haciendas at Ambato and Latacunga, and downthe coast is he interested in oil-wells. Also has he spent much moneyin planting rubber along the Guayas. He is modern, like the Yankee; and,like the Yankee, full of business. He has much money, but it is in manyventures, and ever he needs more money for new ventures and for the oldones. He has been everywhere and seen everything. When he was a veryyoung man he was in the Yankee military academy what you call WestPoint. There was trouble. He was made to resign. He does not likeAmericans. But he did like Maria Valenzuela, who was of his own country.Also, he needed her money for his ventures and for his gold mine inEastern Ecuador where the painted Indians live. I was his friend. Itwas my desire that he should marry Maria Valenzuela. Further, much of mymoney had I invested in his ventures, more so in his gold mine which wasvery rich but which first required the expense of much money before itwould yield forth its riches. If Luis Cervallos married Maria ValenzuelaI should have more money very immediately.
But John Harned followed Maria Valenzuela to Quito, and it was quicklyclear to us--to Luis Cervallos and me that she looked upon John Harnedwith great kindness. It is said that a woman will have her will, butthis is a case not in point, for Maria Valenzuela did not have herwill--at least not with John Harned. Perhaps it would all have happenedas it did, even if Luis Cervallos and I had not sat in the box that dayat the bull-ring in Quito. But this I know: we DID sit in the box thatday. And I shall tell you what happened.
The four of us were in the one box, guests of Lui
s Cervallos. I was nextto the Presidente's box. On the other side was the box of General JoseEliceo Salazar. With him were Joaquin Endara and Urcisino Castillo,both generals, and Colonel Jacinto Fierro and Captain Baltazar deEcheverria. Only Luis Cervallos had the position and the influenceto get that box next to the Presidente. I know for a fact that thePresidente himself expressed the desire to the management that LuisCervallos should have that box.
The band finished playing the national hymn of Ecuador. The processionof the toreadors was over. The Presidente nodded to begin. The buglesblew, and the bull dashed in--you know the way, excited, bewildered, thedarts in its shoulder burning like fire, itself seeking madly whateverenemy to destroy. The toreadors hid behind their shelters and waited.Suddenly they appeared forth, the capadores, five of them, from everyside, their colored capes flinging wide. The bull paused at sight ofsuch a generosity of enemies, unable in his own mind to know which toattack. Then advanced one of the capadors alone to meet the bull. Thebull was very angry. With its fore-legs it pawed the sand of the arenatill the dust rose all about it. Then it charged, with lowered head,straight for the lone capador.
It is always of interest, the first charge of the first bull. After atime it is natural that one should grow tired, trifle, that the keennessshould lose its edge. But that first charge of the first bull! JohnHarned was seeing it for the first time, and he could not escape theexcitement--the sight of the man, armed only with a piece of cloth,and of the bull rushing upon him across the sand with sharp horns,widespreading.
"See!" cried Maria Valenzuela. "Is it not superb?"
John Harned nodded, but did not look at her. His eyes were sparkling,and they were only for the bull-ring. The capador stepped to the side,with a twirl of the cape eluding the bull and spreading the cape on hisown shoulders.
"What do you think?" asked Maria Venzuela. "Is it nota--what-you-call--sporting proposition--no?"
"It is certainly," said John Harned. "It is very clever."
She clapped her hands with delight. They were little hands. The audienceapplauded. The bull turned and came back. Again the capadore eluded him,throwing the cape on his shoulders, and again the audience applauded.Three times did this happen. The capadore was very excellent. Then heretired, and the other capadore played with the bull. After that theyplaced the banderillos in the bull, in the shoulders, on each side ofthe back-bone, two at a time. Then stepped forward Ordonez, the chiefmatador, with the long sword and the scarlet cape. The bugles blew forthe death. He is not so good as Matestini. Still he is good, and withone thrust he drove the sword to the heart, and the bull doubled hislegs under him and lay down and died. It was a pretty thrust, clean andsure; and there was much applause, and many of the common people threwtheir hats into the ring. Maria Valenzuela clapped her hands with therest, and John Harned, whose cold heart was not touched by the event,looked at her with curiosity.
"You like it?" he asked.
"Always," she said, still clapping her hands.
"From a little girl," said Luis Cervallos. "I remember her first fight.She was four years old. She sat with her mother, and just like now sheclapped her hands. She is a proper Spanish woman.
"You have seen it," said Maria Valenzuela to John Harned, as theyfastened the mules to the dead bull and dragged it out. "You have seenthe bull-fight and you like it--no? What do you think?
"I think the bull had no chance," he said. "The bull was doomed fromthe first. The issue was not in doubt. Every one knew, before the bullentered the ring, that it was to die. To be a sporting proposition, theissue must be in doubt. It was one stupid bull who had never foughta man against five wise men who had fought many bulls. It would bepossibly a little bit fair if it were one man against one bull."
"Or one man against five bulls," said Maria Valenzuela; and we alllaughed, and Luis Ceryallos laughed loudest.
"Yes," said John Harned, "against five bulls, and the man, like thebulls, never in the bull ring before--a man like yourself, SenorCrevallos."
"Yet we Spanish like the bull-fight," said Luis Cervallos; and I swearthe devil was whispering then in his ear, telling him to do that which Ishall relate.
"Then must it be a cultivated taste," John Harned made answer. "We killbulls by the thousand every day in Chicago, yet no one cares to payadmittance to see."
"That is butchery," said I; "but this--ah, this is an art. It isdelicate. It is fine. It is rare."
"Not always," said Luis Cervallos. "I have seen clumsy matadors, and Itell you it is not nice."
He shuddered, and his face betrayed such what-you-call disgust, that Iknew, then, that the devil was whispering and that he was beginning toplay a part.
"Senor Harned may be right," said Luis Cervallos. "It may not be fairto the bull. For is it not known to all of us that for twenty-four hoursthe bull is given no water, and that immediately before the fight he ispermitted to drink his fill?"
"And he comes into the ring heavy with water?" said John Harned quickly;and I saw that his eyes were very gray and very sharp and very cold.
"It is necessary for the sport," said Luis Cervallos. "Would you havethe bull so strong that he would kill the toreadors?"
"I would that he had a fighting chance," said John Harned, facing thering to see the second bull come in.
It was not a good bull. It was frightened. It ran around the ring insearch of a way to get out. The capadors stepped forth and flared theircapes, but he refused to charge upon them.
"It is a stupid bull," said Maria Valenzuela.
"I beg pardon," said John Harned; "but it would seem to me a wise bull.He knows he must not fight man. See! He smells death there in the ring."
True. The bull, pausing where the last one had died, was smelling thewet sand and snorting. Again he ran around the ring, with raised head,looking at the faces of the thousands that hissed him, that threworange-peel at him and called him names. But the smell of blood decidedhim, and he charged a capador, so without warning that the man justescaped. He dropped his cape and dodged into the shelter. The bullstruck the wall of the ring with a crash. And John Harned said, in aquiet voice, as though he talked to himself:
"I will give one thousand sucres to the lazar-house of Quito if a bullkills a man this day."
"You like bulls?" said Maria Valenzuela with a smile.
"I like such men less," said John Harned. "A toreador is not a braveman. He surely cannot be a brave man. See, the bull's tongue is alreadyout. He is tired and he has not yet begun."
"It is the water," said Luis Cervallos.
"Yes, it is the water," said John Harned. "Would it not be safer tohamstring the bull before he comes on?"
Maria Valenzuela was made angry by this sneer in John Harned's words.But Luis Cervallos smiled so that only I could see him, and then itbroke upon my mind surely the game he was playing. He and I were to bebanderilleros. The big American bull was there in the box with us. Wewere to stick the darts in him till he became angry, and then theremight be no marriage with Maria Valenzuela. It was a good sport. And thespirit of bull-fighters was in our blood.
The bull was now angry and excited. The capadors had great game withhim. He was very quick, and sometimes he turned with such sharpnessthat his hind legs lost their footing and he plowed the sand with hisquarter. But he charged always the flung capes and committed no harm.
"He has no chance," said John Harned. "He is fighting wind."
"He thinks the cape is his enemy," explained Maria Valenzuela. "See howcleverly the capador deceives him."
"It is his nature to be deceived," said John Harned. "Wherefore he isdoomed to fight wind. The toreadors know it, you know it, I know it--weall know from the first that he will fight wind. He only does not knowit. It is his stupid beast-nature. He has no chance."
"It is very simple," said Luis Cervallos. "The bull shuts his eyes whenhe charges. Therefore--"
"The man steps, out of the way and the bull rushes by," Harnedinterrupted.
"Yes," said Luis Cervallos; "that is it
. The bull shuts his eyes, andthe man knows it."
"But cows do not shut their eyes," said John Harned. "I know a cow athome that is a Jersey and gives milk, that would whip the whole gang ofthem."
"But the toreadors do not fight cows," said I.
"They are afraid to fight cows," said John Harned.
"Yes," said Luis Cervallos, "they are afraid to fight cows. There wouldbe no sport in killing toreadors."
"There would be some sport," said John Harned, "if a toreador werekilled once in a while. When I become an old man, and mayhap a cripple,and should I need to make a living and be unable to do hard work,then would I become a bull-fighter. It is a light vocation for elderlygentlemen and pensioners."
"But see!" said Maria Valenzuela, as the bull charged bravely and thecapador eluded it with a fling of his cape. "It requires skill so toavoid the beast."
"True," said John Harned. "But believe me, it requires a thousand timesmore skill to avoid the many and quick punches of a prize-fighter whokeeps his eyes open and strikes with intelligence. Furthermore, thisbull does not want to fight. Behold, he runs away."
It was not a good bull, for again it ran around the ring, seeking tofind a way out.
"Yet these bulls are sometimes the most dangerous," said Luis Cervallos."It can never be known what they will do next. They are wise. They arehalf cow. The bull-fighters never like them.--See! He has turned!"
Once again, baffled and made angry by the walls of the ring that wouldnot let him out, the bull was attacking his enemies valiantly.
"His tongue is hanging out," said John Harned. "First, they fill himwith water. Then they tire him out, one man and then another, persuadinghim to exhaust himself by fighting wind. While some tire him, othersrest. But the bull they never let rest. Afterward, when he is quitetired and no longer quick, the matador sticks the sword into him."
The time had now come for the banderillos. Three times one of thefighters endeavored to place the darts, and three times did he fail.He but stung the bull and maddened it. The banderillos must go in, youknow, two at a time, into the shoulders, on each side the backbone andclose to it. If but one be placed, it is a failure. The crowd hissed andcalled for Ordonez. And then Ordonez did a great thing. Four timeshe stood forth, and four times, at the first attempt, he stuck in thebanderillos, so that eight of them, well placed, stood out of the backof the bull at one time. The crowd went mad, and a rain of hats andmoney fell on the sand of the ring.
And just then the bull charged unexpectedly one of the capadors. The manslipped and lost his head. The bull caught him--fortunately, between hiswide horns. And while the audience watched, breathless and silent, JohnHarned stood up and yelled with gladness. Alone, in that hush of all ofus, John Harned yelled. And he yelled for the bull. As you see yourself,John Harned wanted the man killed. His was a brutal heart. This badconduct made those angry that sat in the box of General Salazar, andthey cried out against John Harned. And Urcisino Castillo told him tohis face that he was a dog of a Gringo and other things. Only it wasin Spanish, and John Harned did not understand. He stood and yelled,perhaps for the time of ten seconds, when the bull was enticed intocharging the other capadors and the man arose unhurt.
"The bull has no chance," John Harned said with sadness as he sat down."The man was uninjured. They fooled the bull away from him." Then heturned to Maria Valenzuela and said: "I beg your pardon. I was excited."
She smiled and in reproof tapped his arm with her fan.
"It is your first bull-fight," she said. "After you have seen more youwill not cry for the death of the man. You Americans, you see, are morebrutal than we. It is because of your prize-fighting. We come only tosee the bull killed."
"But I would the bull had some chance," he answered. "Doubtless, intime, I shall cease to be annoyed by the men who take advantage of thebull."
The bugles blew for the death of the bull. Ordonez stood forth with thesword and the scarlet cloth. But the bull had changed again, and did notwant to fight. Ordonez stamped his foot in the sand, and cried out, andwaved the scarlet cloth. Then the bull charged, but without heart. Therewas no weight to the charge. It was a poor thrust. The sword strucka bone and bent. Ordonez took a fresh sword. The bull, again stung tofight, charged once more. Five times Ordonez essayed the thrust, andeach time the sword went but part way in or struck bone. The sixth time,the sword went in to the hilt. But it was a bad thrust. The sword missedthe heart and stuck out half a yard through the ribs on the oppositeside. The audience hissed the matador. I glanced at John Harned. He satsilent, without movement; but I could see his teeth were set, and hishands were clenched tight on the railing of the box.
All fight was now out of the bull, and, though it was no vital thrust,he trotted lamely what of the sword that stuck through him, in one sideand out the other. He ran away from the matador and the capadors, andcircled the edge of the ring, looking up at the many faces.
"He is saying: 'For God's sake let me out of this; I don't want tofight,'" said John Harned.
That was all. He said no more, but sat and watched, though sometimeshe looked sideways at Maria Valenzuela to see how she took it. She wasangry with the matador. He was awkward, and she had desired a cleverexhibition.
The bull was now very tired, and weak from loss of blood, though farfrom dying. He walked slowly around the wall of the ring, seeking away out. He would not charge. He had had enough. But he must be killed.There is a place, in the neck of a bull behind the horns, where thecord of the spine is unprotected and where a short stab will immediatelykill. Ordonez stepped in front of the bull and lowered his scarlet clothto the ground. The bull would not charge. He stood still and smelled thecloth, lowering his head to do so. Ordonez stabbed between the horns atthe spot in the neck. The bull jerked his head up. The stab had missed.Then the bull watched the sword. When Ordonez moved the cloth on theground, the bull forgot the sword and lowered his head to smell thecloth. Again Ordonez stabbed, and again he failed. He tried many times.It was stupid. And John Harned said nothing. At last a stab went home,and the bull fell to the sand, dead immediately, and the mules were madefast and he was dragged out.
"The Gringos say it is a cruel sport--no?" said Luis Cervallos. "That itis not humane. That it is bad for the bull. No?"
"No," said John Harned. "The bull does not count for much. It is bad forthose that look on. It is degrading to those that look on. It teachesthem to delight in animal suffering. It is cowardly for five men tofight one stupid bull. Therefore those that look on learn to be cowards.The bull dies, but those that look on live and the lesson is learned.The bravery of men is not nourished by scenes of cowardice."
Maria Valenzuela said nothing. Neither did she look at him. But sheheard every word and her cheeks were white with anger. She looked outacross the ring and fanned herself, but I saw that her hand trembled.Nor did John Harned look at her. He went on as though she were notthere. He, too, was angry, coldly angry.
"It is the cowardly sport of a cowardly people," he said.
"Ah," said Luis Cervallos softly, "you think you understand us."
"I understand now the Spanish Inquisition," said John Harned. "It musthave been more delightful than bull-fighting."
Luis Cervallos smiled but said nothing. He glanced at Maria Valenzuela,and knew that the bull-fight in the box was won. Never would she havefurther to do with the Gringo who spoke such words. But neither LuisCervallos nor I was prepared for the outcome of the day. I fear we donot understand the Gringos. How were we to know that John Harned, whowas so coldly angry, should go suddenly mad! But mad he did go, as youshall see. The bull did not count for much--he said so himself. Then whyshould the horse count for so much? That I cannot understand. The mindof John Harned lacked logic. That is the only explanation.
"It is not usual to have horses in the bull-ring at Quito," said LuisCervallos, looking up from the program. "In Spain they always have them.But to-day, by special permission we shall have them. When the next bullcomes on there will be horses and pi
cadors-you know, the men who carrylances and ride the horses."
"The bull is doomed from the first," said John Harned. "Are the horsesthen likewise doomed!"
"They are blindfolded so that they may not see the bull," said LuisCervallos. "I have seen many horses killed. It is a brave sight."
"I have seen the bull slaughtered," said John Harned "I will now see thehorse slaughtered, so that I may understand more fully the fine pointsof this noble sport."
"They are old horses," said Luis Cervallos, "that are not good foranything else."
"I see," said John Harned.
The third bull came on, and soon against it were both capadors andpicadors. One picador took his stand directly below us. I agree, it wasa thin and aged horse he rode, a bag of bones covered with mangy hide.
"It is a marvel that the poor brute can hold up the weight of therider," said John Harned. "And now that the horse fights the bull, whatweapons has it?"
"The horse does not fight the bull," said Luis Cervallos.
"Oh," said John Harned, "then is the horse there to be gored? That mustbe why it is blindfolded, so that it shall not see the bull coming togore it."
"Not quite so," said I. "The lance of the picador is to keep the bullfrom goring the horse."
"Then are horses rarely gored?" asked John Harned.
"No," said Luis Cervallos. "I have seen, at Seville, eighteen horseskilled in one day, and the people clamored for more horses."
"Were they blindfolded like this horse?" asked John Harned.
"Yes," said Luis Cervallos.
After that we talked no more, but watched the fight. And John Harned wasgoing mad all the time, and we did not know. The bull refused to chargethe horse. And the horse stood still, and because it could not see itdid not know that the capadors were trying to make the bull charge uponit. The capadors teased the bull their capes, and when it charged themthey ran toward the horse and into their shelters. At last the bull wasangry, and it saw the horse before it.
"The horse does not know, the horse does not know," John Harnedwhispered to himself, unaware that he voiced his thought aloud.
The bull charged, and of course the horse knew nothing till the picadorfailed and the horse found himself impaled on the bull's horns frombeneath. The bull was magnificently strong. The sight of its strengthwas splendid to see. It lifted the horse clear into the air; and as thehorse fell to its side on on the ground the picador landed on his feetand escaped, while the capadors lured the bull away. The horse wasemptied of its essential organs. Yet did it rise to its feet screaming.It was the scream of the horse that did it, that made John Harnedcompletely mad; for he, too, started to rise to his feet, I heardhim curse low and deep. He never took his eyes from the horse, which,screaming, strove to run, but fell down instead and rolled on its backso that all its four legs were kicking in the air. Then the bull chargedit and gored it again and again until it was dead.
John Harned was now on his feet. His eyes were no longer cold likesteel. They were blue flames. He looked at Maria Valenzuela, and shelooked at him, and in his face was a great loathing. The moment of hismadness was upon him. Everybody was looking, now that the horse wasdead; and John Harned was a large man and easy to be seen.
"Sit down," said Luis Cervallos, "or you will make a fool of yourself."
John Harned replied nothing. He struck out his fist. He smote LuisCervallos in the face so that he fell like a dead man across the chairsand did not rise again. He saw nothing of what followed. But I saw much.Urcisino Castillo, leaning forward from the next box, with his canestruck John Harned full across the face. And John Harned smote him withhis fist so that in falling he overthrew General Salazar. John Harnedwas now in what-you-call Berserker rage--no? The beast primitive in himwas loose and roaring--the beast primitive of the holes and caves of thelong ago.
"You came for a bull-fight," I heard him say, "And by God I'll show youa man-fight!"
It was a fight. The soldiers guarding the Presidente's box leapedacross, but from one of them he took a rifle and beat them on theirheads with it. From the other box Colonel Jacinto Fierro was shooting athim with a revolver. The first shot killed a soldier. This I know fora fact. I saw it. But the second shot struck John Harned in the side.Whereupon he swore, and with a lunge drove the bayonet of his rifle intoColonel Jacinto Fierro's body. It was horrible to behold. The Americansand the English are a brutal race. They sneer at our bull-fighting, yetdo they delight in the shedding of blood. More men were killed that daybecause of John Harned than were ever killed in all the history of thebull-ring of Quito, yes, and of Guayaquil and all Ecuador.
It was the scream of the horse that did it, yet why did not John Harnedgo mad when the bull was killed? A beast is a beast, be it bull orhorse. John Harned was mad. There is no other explanation. He wasblood-mad, a beast himself. I leave it to your judgment. Which isworse--the goring of the horse by the bull, or the goring of ColonelJacinto Fierro by the bayonet in the hands of John Harned! And JohnHarned gored others with that bayonet. He was full of devils. He foughtwith many bullets in him, and he was hard to kill. And Maria Valenzuelawas a brave woman. Unlike the other women, she did not cry out norfaint. She sat still in her box, gazing out across the bull-ring. Herface was white and she fanned herself, but she never looked around.
From all sides came the soldiers and officers and the common peoplebravely to subdue the mad Gringo. It is true--the cry went up fromthe crowd to kill all the Gringos. It is an old cry in Latin-Americancountries, what of the dislike for the Gringos and their uncouth ways.It is true, the cry went up. But the brave Ecuadorianos killed onlyJohn Harned, and first he killed seven of them. Besides, there were manyhurt. I have seen many bull-fights, but never have I seen anything soabominable as the scene in the boxes when the fight was over. It waslike a field of battle. The dead lay around everywhere, while thewounded sobbed and groaned and some of them died. One man, whom JohnHarned had thrust through the belly with the bayonet, clutched athimself with both his hands and screamed. I tell you for a fact it wasmore terrible than the screaming of a thousand horses.
No, Maria Valenzuela did not marry Luis Cervallos. I am sorry for that.He was my friend, and much of my money was invested in his ventures. Itwas five weeks before the surgeons took the bandages from his face. Andthere is a scar there to this day, on the cheek, under the eye. YetJohn Harned struck him but once and struck him only with his nakedfist. Maria Valenzuela is in Austria now. It is said she is to marry anArch-Duke or some high nobleman. I do not know. I think she liked JohnHarned before he followed her to Quito to see the bull-fight. But whythe horse? That is what I desire to know. Why should he watch the bulland say that it did not count, and then go immediately and most horriblymad because a horse screamed? There is no understanding the Gringos.They are barbarians.