There were other combats. The intermissions were long, and marked always with much bickering. The fight might end in a minute; the intermission was always at least a half hour. After the roosters were paired there was delay for the fixing of the gaffs, delay for the betting, delay while each owner brought in another cock to peck his fighter into the proper rage. But these people could tolerate any delay, especially if it were in the interests of the national sport. When two cocks did not appear eager to slaughter themselves to make a Honduran holiday, the wrathful spectators hurled abuse at them.
“Cowards! You are worse than hens! Carramba!”
But there was only one such pair. The others were game. They might strut about interminably in their effort to secure an advantage, but once they clashed, they fought to the death. Sometimes it came unexpectedly, with one quick blow of the knife. Usually one of the birds sank weakly on a severed leg, yet wriggled valiantly toward the other, only to be pecked again and again until the whole back of its neck was a ghastly wound. And two of the contestants—big strong birds, with glorious plumage of many shades, and equipped with long, powerful legs—hurled themselves at each other the moment they were released. They met with a crash, and tumbled over and over, clawing and biting, and rolling the length of the arena in an indistinguishable mess of feathered warrior. The crowd was upon its feet. Men screamed with joy. And after it was all over they hugged one another.
The little fat man turned to me:
“How do you like it? Muy bonita, verdad? Very nice, what?”
“Awfully nice.”
“There will be others. We shall fight until dark.” But I strolled back to the comparative quiet of the hotel. The Spaniard’s birds had all been defeated, wherefore he was going home by the usual means of travel.
IX
A week passed, and nothing happened.
Rumors flew thick and fast, however. Every one discussed the forthcoming revolution as a certainty. Now and then a peon would drop casually into the hotel to inquire in whispers whether the guests had any ammunition to sell. He never used the word “ammunition,” but resorted to harmless-sounding synonyms unintelligible except to the born conspirator.