"Something Doing"
A JOURNAL: MOCK HEROIC
Thursday, March 17, 1910.—My friend Protasio and I went to one of the fairs in the Tondo church-yard to buy an awit for the instructor in English. On our way home we met a group of gentlemen, eight of them, among whom I recognized one of my schoolmates, Pedro Pineda. My companion looked Pedro squarely in the face, but this one came up to us, with arms akimbo, and presently addressed my companion in this manner: "What do you want? Why do you look at me?" "Is there any cause for which you speak to me thus?" answered my companion. "Why? What do you want? Let us have a boxing match!"
I did my best to make my acquaintances desist from their plan, but my efforts were in vain. Protasio took off his diamond ring and handed it to me. I put it on the upper part of my right thumb, suspecting nothing from the companions of Pedro.
In the dark this unworthy fellow thrust his hands into his big pocket, and by the dim light of the evening star I noticed him put on iron knuckles. Mad with rage, I shouted, "Take off your—!" but hardly had I begun when just above my left ear fell a terrible blow. I felt no pain, but the stroke deafened me. Still I lost no time mustering my courage, and no sooner had I summoned my latent forces than I stood with my back against the church-yard fence. Confronted by four young men, one of whom was the sturdy machinist who delivered me the first blow, I raised my right arm to ward off another dreadful box in the face, when, to my surprise, I heard the crash of an iron rod. The cane which I had with me had done its duty; when I was about to receive a blow more serious than the first, up rose my hand and with an impulse it hit hard the right shoulder of my sturdy opponent. Overjoyed at this incident I caused my bent cane to swing back and forth until my four opponents, realizing that I had an iron cane, ran away as fast as their legs could carry them.
Protasio received several wounds from the iron knuckles—one on the right arm, two on the head and one just above the left ear. Breathless and bloody, I heard him utter the cry, "What! Four people to one?" The people at the fair overheard the tumult; they rushed to the scene and saw us two, one bloody, the other holding a bent cane, safe and sound. But our good opponents had run away, carrying with them my friend's new baliwag hat.
"Fie! Cowards!" roared my companion, as we turned around the narrow street beside the church. "Why did those folks fight with us four to one?"
"Well, although they have made a serious mistake, Tasio," I remarked, "you cannot blame them; you will know the cause when you study the psychology of a mob."
He found no word with which to answer me; his right arm he could hardly raise, and the blood streamed in great quantities from the back of his head. I conducted him to his house and told him not to go to school for two days. For my part, I felt nothing particularly painful except two things—a swelling on my forehead and the bruised place on my face where I received that blow without notice.