"No, no," another cried, "send him over this way to me."
The animal pawed the earth, bellowed, and rushed around the race course in fury.
Don Pedro Zelaya climbed out on a projecting tree-branch and dropped on the animal's back, in the midst of one of its mad careenings. It stood stock still for a moment in bewilderment. Zelaya's sharp spurs soon stirred it into action. It ran, leaped, even bucked like a broncho, in trying to rid its back of the burden, but in vain.
"Brava! Brava! Señor Zelaya. Soon will you have another gentle pony."
"Let him chase thee around the race course," yelled a youth. "One hundred pesos to fifty he catches thee!"
Zelaya found time to wave his acknowledgment of the persiflage.
The steer suddenly tried rolling over and over to free itself. The man sprang to the ground each time it dashed itself down; then, with the litheness of a cat, leaped to its back as it arose.
The animal finally gave up all efforts to throw the rider, and ran at full speed around the racing track, amidst the loud plaudits of the assembly.
Señor Zelaya drew himself back into the branches of the tree, after a little, and his mount escaped to the forest.
The men exhibited all manner of fancy riding. Some rode at the flank of a horse at gallop, or under the belly, or astride the neck. Others leaned from their saddles in flying sweep and picked up coins from the ground; or drew from the sand chickens buried to the head, yet so gentle the rider's hand that the fowl was not in the least injured.