The Madness of John Harned

by Jack London

I TELL this for a fact. It happened in the bull-ring at Quito.I sat in the box with John Harned, and with Maria Valenzuela,and with Luis Cervallos. I saw it happen. I saw it all fromfirst to last. I was on the steamer Ecuadore from Panama toGuayaquil. Maria Valenzuela is my cousin. I have known heralways. She is very beautiful. I am a Spaniard--an Ecuadoriano,true, but I am descended from Pedro Patino, who was one ofPizarro's captains. They were brave men. They were heroes. Didnot Pizarro lead three hundred and fifty Spanish cavaliers andfour thousand Indians into the far Cordilleras in search oftreasure? And did not all the four thousand Indians and threehundred of the brave cavaliers die on that vain quest? ButPedro Patino did not die. He it was that lived to found thefamily of the Patino. I am Ecuadoriano, true, but I am Spanish.I am Manuel de Jesus Patino. I own many haciendas, and tenthousand Indians are my slaves, though the law says they arefree men who work by freedom of contract. The law is a funnything. We Ecuadorianos laugh at it. It is our law. We make itfor ourselves. I am Manuel de Jesus Patino. Remember that name.It will be written some day in history. There are revolutionsin Ecuador. We call them elections. It is a good joke is itnot?--what you call a pun?John Harned was an American. I met him first at the Tivolihotel in Panama. He had much money--this I have heard. He wasgoing to Lima, but he met Maria Valenzuela in the Tivoli hotel.Maria Valenzuela is my cousin, and she is beautiful. It istrue, she is the most beautiful woman in Ecuador. But also isshe most beautiful in every country--in Paris, in Madrid, inNew York, in Vienna. Always do all men look at her, and JohnHarned looked long at her at Panama. He loved her, that I knowfor a fact. She was Ecuadoriano, true--but she was of allcountries; she was of all the world. She spoke many languages.She sang--ah! like an artiste. Her smile--wonderful, divine.Her eyes--ah! have I not seen men look in her eyes? They werewhat you English call amazing. They were promises of paradise.Men drowned themselves in her eyes.Maria Valenzuela was rich--richer than I, who am accounted veryrich in Ecuador. But John Harned did not care for her money. Hehad a heart--a funny heart. He was a fool. He did not go toLima. He left the steamer at Guayaquil and followed her toQuito. She was coming home from Europe and other places. I donot see what she found in him, but she liked him. This I knowfor a fact, else he would not have followed her to Quito. Sheasked 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 passageengaged on the steamer.""You travel for pleasure--no?" said Maria Valenzuela; and shelooked at him as only Maria Valenzuela could look, her eyeswarm with the promise.And he came. No; he did not come for the bull-fight. He camebecause of what he had seen in her eyes. Women like MariaValenzuela are born once in a hundred years. They are of nocountry and no time. They are what you call goddesses. Men falldown at their feet. They play with men and run them throughtheir pretty fingers like sand. Cleopatra was such a woman theysay; and so was Circe. She turned men into swine. Ha! ha! It istrue--no?It all came about because Maria Valenzuela said:"You English people are--what shall I say?--savage--no? Youprize-fight. Two men each hit the other with their fists tilltheir eyes are blinded and their noses are broken. Hideous! Andthe other men who look on cry out loudly and are made glad. Itis barbarous--no?""But they are men," said John Harned; "and they prize-fight outof desire. No one makes them prize-fight. They do it becausethey desire it more than anything else in the world."Maria Valenzuela--there was scorn in her smile as she said:"They kill each other often--is it not so? I have read it inthe papers.""But the bull," said John Harned."The bull is killed many times in the bull-fight, and the bulldoes not come into the the ring out of desire. It is not fairto the bull. He is compelled to fight. But the man in theprize-fight--no; he is not compelled.""He is the more brute therefore," said Maria Valenzuela."He is savage. He is primitive. He is animal. He strikes withhis paws like a bear from a cave, and he is ferocious. But thebull-fight--ah! You have not seen the bullfight--no? Thetoreador is clever. He must have skill. He is modern. He isromantic. He is only a man, soft and tender, and he faces thewild bull in conflict. And he kills with a sword, a slendersword, with one thrust, so, to the heart of the great beast. Itis delicious. It makes the heart beat to behold--the small man,the great beast, the wide level sand, the thousands that lookon without breath; the great beast rushes to the attack, thesmall man stands like a statue; he does not move, he isunafraid, and in his hand is the slender sword flashing likesilver in the sun; nearer and nearer rushes the great beastwith its sharp horns, the man does not move, and then--so--thesword flashes, the thrust is made, to the heart, to the hilt,the bull falls to the sand and is dead, and the man is unhurt.It is brave. It is magnificent! Ah!--I could love the toreador.But the man of the prize-fight--he is the brute, the humanbeast, the savage primitive, the maniac that receives manyblows in his stupid face and rejoices. Come to Quito and I willshow you the brave sport of men, the toreador and the bull."But John Harned did not go to Quito for the bull-fight. He wentbecause of Maria Valenzuela. He was a large man, more broad ofshoulder than we Ecuadorianos, more tall, more heavy of limband bone. True, he was larger of his own race. His eyes wereblue, though I have seen them gray, and, sometimes, like coldsteel. His features were large, too--not delicate like ours,and his jaw was very strong to look at. Also, his face wassmooth-shaven like a priest's. Why should a man feel shame forthe hair on his face? Did not God put it there? Yes, I believein God--I am not a pagan like many of you English. God is good.He made me an Ecuadoriano with ten thousand slaves. And when Idie I shall go to God. Yes, the priests are right.But John Harned. He was a quiet man. He talked always in a lowvoice, and he never moved his hands when he talked. One wouldhave thought his heart was a piece of ice; yet did he have astreak of warm in his blood, for he followed Maria Valenzuelato Quito. Also, and for all that he talked low without movinghis hands, he was an animal, as you shall see--the beastprimitive, the stupid, ferocious savage of the long ago thatdressed in wild skins and lived in the caves along with thebears and wolves.Luis Cervallos is my friend, the best of Ecuadorianos. He ownsthree cacao plantations at Naranjito and Chobo. At Milagro ishis big sugar plantation. He has large haciendas at Ambato andLatacunga, and down the coast is he interested in oil-wells.Also has he spent much money in planting rubber along theGuayas. 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 forthe old ones. He has been everywhere and seen everything. Whenhe was a very young man he was in the Yankee military academywhat you call West Point. There was trouble. He was made toresign. He does not like Americans. But he did like MariaValenzuela, who was of his own country. Also, he needed hermoney for his ventures and for his gold mine in Eastern Ecuadorwhere the painted Indians live. I was his friend. It was mydesire that he should marry Maria Valenzuela. Further, much ofmy money had I invested in his ventures, more so in his goldmine which was very rich but which first required the expenseof much money before it would yield forth its riches. If LuisCervallos married Maria Valenzuela I should have more moneyvery immediately.But John Harned followed Maria Valenzuela to Quito, and it wasquickly clear to us--to Luis Cervallos and me that she lookedupon John Harned with great kindness. It is said that a womanwill have her will, but this is a case not in point, for MariaValenzuela did not have her will--at least not with JohnHarned. Perhaps it would all have happened as it did, even ifLuis Cervallos and I had not sat in the box that day at thebull-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 Luis Cervallos. Iwas next to the Presidente's box. On the other side was the boxof General Jose Eliceo Salazar. With him were Joaquiin Endaraand Urcisino Castillo, both generals, and Colonel JacintoFierro and Captain Baltazar de Echeverria. Only Luis Cervalloshad the position and the influence to get that box next to thePresidente. I know for a fact that the Presidente himselfexpressed the desire to the management that Luis Cervallosshould have that box.The band finished playing the national hymn of Ecuador. Theprocession of the toreadors was over. The Presidente nodded tobegin. The bugles blew, and the bull dashed in--you know theway, excited, bewildered, the darts in its shoulder burninglike fire, itself seeking madly whatever enemy to destroy. Thetoreadors hid behind their shelters and waited. Suddenly theyappeared forth, the capadores, five of them, from every side,their colored capes flinging wide. The bull paused at sight ofsuch a generosity of enemies, unable in his own mind to knowwhich to attack. Then advanced one of the capadors alone tomeet the bull. The bull was very angry. With its fore-legs itpawed the sand of the arena till the dust rose all about it.Then it charged, with lowered head, straight for the lonecapador.It is always of interest, the first charge of the first bull.After a time it is natural that one should grow tired, trifle,that the keenness should lose its edge. But that first chargeof the first bull! John Harned was seeing it for the firsttime, and he could not escape the excitement--the sight of theman, armed only with a piece of cloth, and of the bull rushingupon 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 weresparkling, and they were only for the bull-ring. The capadorstepped to the side, with a twirl of the cape eluding the bulland spreading the cape on his own 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. Theaudience applauded. The bull turned and came back. Again thecapadore eluded him, throwing the cape on his shoulders, andagain the audience applauded. Three times did this happen. Thecapadore was very excellent. Then he retired, and the othercapadore played with the bull. After that they placed thebanderillos in the bull, in the shoulders, on each side of theback-bone, two at a time. Then stepped forward Ordonez, thechief matador, with the long sword and the scarlet cape. Thebugles blew for the death. He is not so good as Matestini.Still he is good, and with one thrust he drove the sword to theheart, and the bull doubled his legs under him and lay down anddied. It was a pretty thrust, clean and sure; and there wasmuch applause, and many of the common people threw their hatsinto the ring. Maria Valenzuela clapped her hands with therest, and John Harned, whose cold heart was not touched by theevent, 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 herfirst fight. She was four years old. She sat with her mother,and just like now she clapped her hands. She is a properSpanish woman."You have seen it," said Maria Valenzuela to John Harned, asthey fastened the mules to the dead bull and dragged it out."You have seen the bull-fight and you like it--no? What do youthink?"I think the bull had no chance," he said. "The bull was doomedfrom the first. The issue was not in doubt. Every one knew,before the bull entered the ring, that it was to die. To be asporting proposition, the issue must be in doubt. It was onestupid bull who had never fought a man against five wise menwho had fought many bulls. It would be possibly a little bitfair if it were one man against one bull.""Or one man against five bulls," said Maria Valenzuela; and weall laughed, and Luis Ceryallos laughed loudest."Yes," said John Harned, "against five bulls, and the man, likethe bulls, never in the bull ring before--a man like yourself,Senor Crevallos.""Yet we Spanish like the bull-fight," said Luis Cervallos; andI swear the devil was whispering then in his ear, telling himto do that which I shall relate."Then must it be a cultivated taste," John Harned made answer."We kill bulls by the thousand every day in Chicago, yet no onecares to pay admittance to see.""That is butchery," said I; "but this--ah, this is an art. Itis delicate. It is fine. It is rare.""Not always," said Luis Cervallos. "I have seen clumsymatadors, and I tell you it is not nice."He shuddered, and his face betrayed such what-you-call disgust,that I knew, then, that the devil was whispering and that hewas beginning to play a part."Senor Harned may be right," said Luis Cervallos. "It may notbe fair to the bull. For is it not known to all of us that fortwenty-four hours the bull is given no water, and thatimmediately before the fight he is permitted to drink hisfill?""And he comes into the ring heavy with water?" said John Harnedquickly; and I saw that his eyes were very gray and very sharpand very cold."It is necessary for the sport," said Luis Cervallos. "Wouldyou have the bull so strong that he would kill the toreadors?""I would that he had a fighting chance," said John Harned,facing the ring to see the second bull come in.It was not a good bull. It was frightened. It ran around thering in search of a way to get out. The capadors stepped forthand flared their capes, 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 awise bull. He knows he must not fight man. See! He smells deaththere in the ring."True. The bull, pausing where the last one had died, wassmelling the wet sand and snorting. Again he ran around thering, with raised head, looking at the faces of the thousandsthat hissed him, that threw orange-peel at him and called himnames. But the smell of blood decided him, and he charged acapador, so without warning that the man just escaped. Hedropped his cape and dodged into the shelter. The bull struckthe 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 ifa bull kills 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 abrave man. He surely cannot be a brave man. See, the bull'stongue is already out. 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 besafer to hamstring the bull before he comes on?"Maria Valenzuela was made angry by this sneer in John Harned'swords. But Luis Cervallos smiled so that only I could see him,and then it broke upon my mind surely the game he was playing.He and I were to be banderilleros. The big American bull wasthere in the box with us. We were to stick the darts in himtill he became angry, and then there might be no marriage withMaria Valenzuela. It was a good sport. And the spirit ofbull-fighters was in our blood.The bull was now angry and excited. The capadors had great gamewith him. He was very quick, and sometimes he turned with suchsharpness that his hind legs lost their footing and he plowedthe sand with his quarter. But he charged always the flungcapes 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 how cleverly the capador deceives him.""It is his nature to be deceived," said John Harned. "Whereforehe is doomed to fight wind. The toreadors know it, you know it,I know it--we all know from the first that he will fight wind.He only does not know it. It is his stupid beast-nature. He hasno chance.""It is very simple," said Luis Cervallos. "The bull shuts hiseyes when he 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 hiseyes, and the man knows it.""But cows do not shut their eyes," said John Harned. "I know acow at home that is a Jersey and gives milk, that would whipthe whole gang of them.""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 would be no sport in killing toreadors.""There would be some sport," said John Harned, "if a toreadorwere killed once in a while. When I become an old man, andmayhap a cripple, and should I need to make a living and beunable to do hard work, then would I become a bull-fighter. Itis a light vocation for elderly gentlemen and pensioners.""But see!" said Maria Valenzuela, as the bull charged bravelyand the capador eluded it with a fling of his cape. "Itrequires skill so to avoid the beast.""True," said John Harned. "But believe me, it requires athousand times more skill to avoid the many and quick punchesof a prize-fighter who keeps his eyes open and strikes withintelligence. Furthermore, this bull does not want to fight.Behold, he runs away."It was not a good bull, for again it ran around the ring,seeking to find a way out."Yet these bulls are sometimes the most dangerous," said LuisCervallos. "It can never be known what they will do next. Theyare wise. They are half cow. The bull-fighters never likethem.--See! He has turned!"Once again, baffled and made angry by the walls of the ringthat would not let him out, the bull was attacking his enemiesvaliantly."His tongue is hanging out," said John Harned. "First, theyfill him with water. Then they tire him out, one man and thenanother, persuading him to exhaust himself by fighting wind.While some tire him, others rest. But the bull they never letrest. Afterward, when he is quite tired and no longer quick,the matador sticks the sword into him."The time had now come for the banderillos. Three times one ofthe fighters endeavored to place the darts, and three times didhe fail. He but stung the bull and maddened it. The banderillosmust go in, you know, two at a time, into the shoulders, oneach side the backbone and close to it. If but one be placed,it is a failure. The crowd hissed and called for Ordonez. Andthen Ordonez did a great thing. Four times he stood forth, andfour times, at the first attempt, he stuck in the banderillos,so that eight of them, well placed, stood out of the back ofthe bull at one time. The crowd went mad, and a rain of hatsand money fell on the sand of the ringAnd just then the bull charged unexpectedly one of thecapadors. The man slipped and lost his head. The bull caughthim--fortunately, between his wide horns. And while theaudience watched, breathless and silent, John Harned stood upand yelled with gladness. Alone, in that hush of all of us,John Harned yelled. And he yelled for the bull. As you seeyourself, John Harned wanted the man killed. His was a brutalheart. This bad conduct made those angry that sat in the box ofGeneral Salazar, and they cried out against John Harned. AndUrcisino Castillo told him to his face that he was a dog of aGringo and other things. Only it was in Spanish, and JohnHarned did not understand. He stood and yelled, perhaps for thetime of ten seconds, when the bull was enticed into chargingthe other capadors and the man arose unhurt."The bull has no chance," John Harned said with sadness as hesat down. "The man was uninjured. They fooled the bull awayfrom him." Then he turned to Maria Valenzuela and said: "I begyour 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 seenmore you will not cry for the death of the man. You Americans,you see, are more brutal than we. It is because of yourprize-fighting. We come only to see the bull killed.""But I would the bull had some chance," he answered."Doubtless, in time, I shall cease to be annoyed by the men whotake advantage of the bull."The bugles blew for the death of the bull. Ordonez stood forthwith the sword and the scarlet cloth. But the bull had changedagain, and did not want to fight. Ordonez stamped his foot inthe sand, and cried out, and waved the scarlet cloth. Then thebull charged, but without heart. There was no weight to thecharge. It was a poor thrust. The sword struck a bone and bent.Ordonez took a fresh sword. The bull, again stung to fight,charged once more. Five times Ordonez essayed the thrust, andeach time the sword went but part way in or struck bone. Thesixth time, the sword went in to the hilt. But it was a badthrust. The sword missed the heart and stuck out half a yardthrough the ribs on the opposite side. The audience hissed thematador. I glanced at John Harned. He sat silent, withoutmovement; but I could see his teeth were set, and his handswere clenched tight on the railing of the box.All fight was now out of the bull, and, though it was no vitalthrust, he trotted lamely what of the sword that stuck throughhim, in one side and out the other. He ran away from thematador and the capadors, and circled 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 wantto fight,'" said John Harned.That was all. He said no more, but sat and watched, thoughsometimes he looked sideways at Maria Valenzuela to see how shetook it. She was angry with the matador. He was awkward, andshe had desired a clever exhibition.The bull was now very tired, and weak from loss of blood,though far from dying. He walked slowly around the wall of thering, seeking a way out. He would not charge. He had hadenough. But he must be killed. There is a place, in the neck ofa bull behind the horns, where the cord of the spine isunprotected and where a short stab will immediately kill.Ordonez stepped in front of the bull and lowered his scarletcloth to the ground. The bull would not charge. He stood stilland smelled the cloth, lowering his head to do so. Ordonezstabbed between the horns at the spot in the neck. The bulljerked his head up. The stab had missed. Then the bull watchedthe sword. When Ordonez moved the cloth on the ground, the bullforgot the sword and lowered his head to smell the cloth. AgainOrdonez stabbed, and again he failed. He tried many times. Itwas stupid. And John Harned said nothing. At last a stab wenthome, and the bull fell to the sand, dead immediately, and themules were made fast and he was dragged out."The Gringos say it is a cruel sport--no?" said Luis Cervallos."That it is not humane. That it is bad for the bull. No?""No," said John Harned. "The bull does not count for much. Itis bad for those that look on. It is degrading to those thatlook on. It teaches them to delight in animal suffering. It iscowardly for five men to fight one stupid bull. Therefore thosethat look on learn to be cowards. The bull dies, but those thatlook on live and the lesson is learned. The bravery of men isnot nourished by scenes of cowardice."Maria Valenzuela said nothing. Neither did she look at him. Butshe heard every word and her cheeks were white with anger. Shelooked out across the ring and fanned herself, but I saw thather hand trembled. Nor did John Harned look at her. He went onas though she were not there. 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 understandus.""I understand now the Spanish Inquisition," said John Harned."It must have been more delightful than bull-fighting."Luis Cervallos smiled but said nothing. He glanced at MariaValenzuela, and knew that the bull-fight in the box was won.Never would she have further to do with the Gringo who spokesuch words. But neither Luis Cervallos nor I was prepared forthe outcome of the day. I fear we do not understand theGringos. How were we to know that John Harned, who was socoldly 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 why should the horse count for so much? That I cannotunderstand. The mind of John Harned lacked logic. That is theonly explanation."It is not usual to have horses in the bull-ring at Quito,"said Luis Cervallos, looking up from the program. "In Spainthey always have them. But to-day, by special permission weshall have them. When the next bull comes on there will behorses and picadors-you know, the men who carry lances and ridethe horses.""The bull is doomed from the first," said John Harned. "Are thehorses then likewise doomed!""They are blindfolded so that they may not see the bull," saidLuis Cervallos. "I have seen many horses killed. It is a bravesight.""I have seen the bull slaughtered," said John Harned "I willnow see the horse slaughtered, so that I may understand morefully the fine points of this noble sport.""They are old horses," said Luis Cervallos, "that are not goodfor anything else.""I see," said John Harned.The third bull came on, and soon against it were both capadorsand picadors. One picador took his stand directly below us. Iagree, it was a thin and aged horse he rode, a bag of bonescovered with mangy hide."It is a marvel that the poor brute can hold up the weight ofthe rider," said John Harned. "And now that the horse fightsthe bull, what weapons 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 must be why it is blindfolded, so that it shall not seethe bull coming to gore it.""Not quite so," said I. "The lance of the picador is to keepthe bull from goring the horse.""Then are horses rarely gored?" asked John Harned."No," said Luis Cervallos. "I have seen, at Seville, eighteenhorses killed in one day, and the people clamored for morehorses.""Were they blindfolded like this horse?" asked John Harned."Yes," said Luis Cervallos.After that we talked no more, but watched the fight. And JohnHarned was going mad all the time, and we did not know. Thebull refused to charge the horse. And the horse stood still,and because it could not see it did not know that the capadorswere trying to make the bull charge upon it. The capadorsteased the bull their capes, and when it charged them they rantoward 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 thepicador failed and the horse found himself impaled on thebull's horns from beneath. The bull was magnificently strong.The sight of its strength was splendid to see. It lifted thehorse clear into the air; and as the horse fell to its side onon the ground the picador landed on his feet and escaped, whilethe capadors lured the bull away. The horse was emptied of itsessential organs. Yet did it rise to its feet screaming. It wasthe scream of the horse that did it, that made John Harnedcompletely mad; for he, too, started to rise to his feet, Iheard him curse low and deep. He never took his eyes from thehorse, which, screaming, strove to run, but fell down insteadand rolled on its back so that all its four legs were kickingin the air. Then the bull charged it and gored it again andagain until it was dead.John Harned was now on his feet. His eyes were no longer coldlike steel. They were blue flames. He looked at MariaValenzuela, and she looked at him, and in his face was a greatloathing. The moment of his madness was upon him. Everybody waslooking, now that the horse was dead; and John Harned was alarge man and easy to be seen."Sit down," said Luis Cervallos, "or you will make a fool ofyourself."John Harned replied nothing. He struck out his fist. He smoteLuis Cervallos in the face so that he fell like a dead manacross the chairs and did not rise again. He saw nothing ofwhat followed. But I saw much. Urcisino Castillo, leaningforward from the next box, with his cane struck John Harnedfull across the face. And John Harned smote him with his fistso that in falling he overthrew General Salazar. John Harnedwas now in what-you-call Berserker rage--no? The beastprimitive in him was loose and roaring--the beast primitive ofthe holes and caves of the long ago."You came for a bull-fight," I heard him say, "And by God I'llshow you a man-fight!"It was a fight. The soldiers guarding the Presidente's boxleaped across, but from one of them he took a rifle and beatthem on their heads with it. From the other box Colonel JacintoFierro was shooting at him with a revolver. The first shotkilled a soldier. This I know for a fact. I saw it. But thesecond shot struck John Harned in the side. Whereupon he swore,and with a lunge drove the bayonet of his rifle into ColonelJacinto Fierro's body. It was horrible to behold. The Americansand the English are a brutal race. They sneer at ourbull-fighting, yet do they delight in the shedding of blood.More men were killed that day because of John Harned than wereever killed in all the history of the bull-ring of Quito, yes,and of Guayaquil and all Ecuador.It was the scream of the horse that did it, yet why did notJohn Harned go mad when the bull was killed? A beast is abeast, be it bull or horse. John Harned was mad. There is noother explanation. He was blood-mad, a beast himself. I leaveit to your judgment. Which is worse--the goring of the horse bythe bull, or the goring of Colonel Jacinto Fierro by thebayonet in the hands of John Harned! And John Harned goredothers with that bayonet. He was full of devils. He fought withmany bullets in him, and he was hard to kill. And MariaValenzuela was a brave woman. Unlike the other women, she didnot cry out nor faint. She sat still in her box, gazing outacross the bull-ring. Her face was white and she fannedherself, but she never looked around.From all sides came the soldiers and officers and the commonpeople bravely to subdue the mad Gringo. It is true--the crywent up from the crowd to kill all the Gringos. It is an oldcry in Latin-American countries, what of the dislike for theGringos and their uncouth ways. It is true, the cry went up.But the brave Ecuadorianos killed only John Harned, and firsthe killed seven of them. Besides, there were many hurt. I haveseen many bull-fights, but never have I seen anything soabominable as the scene in the boxes when the fight was over.It was like a field of battle. The dead lay around everywhere,while the wounded sobbed and groaned and some of them died. Oneman, whom John Harned had thrust through the belly with thebayonet, clutched at himself with both his hands and screamed.I tell you for a fact it was more terrible than the screamingof a thousand horses.No, Maria Valenzuela did not marry Luis Cervallos. I am sorryfor that. He was my friend, and much of my money was investedin his ventures. It was five weeks before the surgeons took thebandages from his face. And there is a scar there to this day,on the cheek, under the eye. Yet John Harned struck him butonce and struck him only with his naked fist. Maria Valenzuelais in Austria now. It is said she is to marry an Arch-Duke orsome high nobleman. I do not know. I think she liked JohnHarned before he followed her to Quito to see the bull-fight.But why the horse? That is what I desire to know. Why should hewatch the bull and say that it did not count, and then goimmediately and most horribly mad because a horse screamed ?There is no understanding the Gringos. They are barbarians.

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