"¡Halloa, caballeros!" cried the pulquero (innkeeper), thinking it necessary to interfere. "Peace! in the name of God or the devil! No quarrels in my house: if you wish for satisfaction, the street is free."
"The pulquero is right!" screamed Pablito. "Come, if you are a man!"
"Gladly!" cried Carlocho; and the two vaqueros rushed into the street.
As to the worthy pulquero, he stood at his door, his hands in the pockets of his calzoneras (loose trousers), and whistled a jarana (a dance tune), while expecting the fight.
Pablito and Carlocho wrapped the left arm in the zarapé for a shield, took off their hats and saluted with much affectation, drew their long knives from their girdles, and, without exchanging a word, stood on their guard with remarkable coolness.
In this kind of duel—the only one, by the by, known in Mexico—satisfaction consists in slashing the adversary in the face. A blow delivered below the girdle would be considered a piece of treachery unworthy of a true caballero.
The two opponents, firmly planted with legs apart, bodies inclined, and heads thrown back, watched each other fixedly, in order to forestall a movement, parry a blow, or inflict a wound. The rest of the vaqueros, with their delicate maize cigarettes in their mouths, looked on composedly, and applauded every adroit thrust or parry.
The fight was continued for some minutes, with equal success on either side, when Pablito, whose sight was most likely obfuscated by his copious potations, came to the parry a second too late, and felt the point of Carlocho's knife rip the skin of his face from chin to forehead.
"Bravo! Bravo!" exclaimed all the vaqueros at once. "Well hit!"
The combatants, flattered by this approbation, stepped away from each other, bowed to the spectators, sheathed their knives, saluted one another with exquisite courtesy, and having first shaken hands, went into the pulquería once more.