Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
what I would have to do, and on the fatal day, when the huge concrete bowl was filled to full
capacity with a mass of excited humanity, I was ready below the stands in the semi-darkness.
Although punctuality does not bother the average Mexican, a bullfight begins with unerr-
ing precision on the tick of 4 p.m. To delay by one minute would mean the wrecking of the
place, and might even bring about bloodshed, so when the hands of the large clock in the
arena near the sixteenth hour of the day, the crowd is worked up to such a nervous pitch that
people give vent to their feelings by shouting and yelling. To make sure of being punctual, I
had taken good care to be on the spot an hour before time, and when I heard the frantic yells
fromwithoutIsuggestedthattheshowshouldbestartedwhenitwasstilltenminutesearly.To
my surprise the Spanish matadores with whom I was conversing gave me looks as if they had
suddenly discovered me to be a leper, and although they had been groomed with the utmost
care and their faces were well powdered, they showed the paleness that had come over them;
when they recovered speech, they told me that even such an idea had never before even been
conceived, and implored me to wait until the big hand of the clock was covering the black
mark that indicates the exact astronomical hour of four.
At last the critical second had arrived, a bugle blew, and the gate swung open. Mancha,
who had shown signs of nervousness before, propped and snorted, and I had to use the spurs.
Being unaccustomed to such treatment, he shot forward into the bullring like a rocket whilst
thousands of voices cheered wildly. The sudden change from dusk to bright sunshine, and the
strange surroundings made the poor horse a bundle of nerves, and presently he lost his temper
and began to goat jump, his usual preliminaries before starting his old Patagonian war-dance.
I had my work cut out, and to make things worse, the crowd began to wave handkerchiefs and
yell more than ever, and in the midst of all this, I suddenly remembered that I had not par-
ticularly tightened the girth. With the type of saddle I used this is very serious, so all I could
do was to sit tight and ride by balance as much as possible. After a considerable amount of
trouble, and to the delight of the crowd, I arrived in front of the president, and then rode back
across the arena to lead in the
cuadrilla
. By this time Mancha had cooled off sufficiently to
limit his acrobatics to nasty prancing only, but I was glad when I had finished my job and
completed a circle around the big ring, part of my duty before making my exit. Just when I
was about to ride out I became careless, and the old boy seized the opportunity to buck his
wayoutingreatstyle.Idon'tmindadmittingthatIwasgladwhenIwasseatedinthebalcony
that had been constructed to accommodate the guests of honour, and during the excitement of
thebullfightsIcouldnothelpwonderingwhatIwouldhavedonedownthereifmysaddlehad
turned!
The Asociacion Nacional de Charros gave me a show, inaugurating their new grounds,
where I saw some clever roping, excellent riding, and steer-throwing. The Mexican way of
steer-throwing differs from the American cowboy 'bulldogging', for the charro races after the
steer, catches hold of his tail, and once he has put his right leg over it he makes his horse cut
