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قراءة كتاب The White Chief: A Legend of Northern Mexico
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
with rowels three, four, and even five inches in diameter!
The “gambucinos,” and young men of the town, the smaller tradespeople, are very similarly attired; but those of higher class—the officials and “comerciantes”—are clad in broad-cloth jackets and pantaloons, not exactly of European cut, but approaching it—a sort of compromise between Paris fashions and the native costume of the country.
Another costume may be noticed, worn by many of the crowd. This is the dress of the native “Pueblos”, or Indios mansos—the poor labourers of the mines, and the neophytes of the mission. It is a simple dress, and consists of an upper garment, the tilma, a sort of coat without sleeves. A coffee-sack with a hole ripped in the bottom for the head to pass through, and a slit cut in each side for the arms, would make the “tilma.” It has no waist, and hangs nearly to the hips without other fastening than the support at the shoulders. The tilma is usually a piece of coarse rug—a cheap woollen cloth of the country, called “gerga,” of a whitish colour, with a few dyed threads to give the semblance of a pattern. This with a pair of dressed sheepskin breeches and rude sandals—guaraches—constitutes the wear of most of the “Indios mansos” of Mexico. The head is bare; and the legs, from the knee to the ankle, shine forth in all their copper-coloured nakedness.
Of these dark aborigines—the “peons” of the mission and the mines—there are hundreds stalking about, while their wives and daughters sit squatted upon the ground in rear of their petatés; upon which are piled the fruits of the soil—the tuñas, petahayas, plums, apricots, grapes, sandias, and other species of melons, with roasted nuts of the piñon-tree, the produce of the neighbouring mountains. Others keep stands of dulces and agua-miel or limonada; while others sell small loaves—piloncilios—of corn-stalk sugar, or baked roots of the agave. Some squat before fires, and prepare tortillas and chilé Colorado; or melt the sugared chocolate cake in their urn-like earthen ollas. From these humble “hucksters,” a hot peppery stew, a dish of atole, or a bowl of piñole, is to be had for a few clacos. There are other stands where you can buy cigarillos of punche, or a drink of the fiery aguardiente from Taos or El Paso; and these stands are favourite resorts of the thirsty miners and soldiers. There are no “booths,” but most of the hucksters protect themselves from the sun by a huge screen of palmetto mat (petaté) placed umbrella-like over their heads.
There is one class of persons yet to be spoken of—an important class at the festival of San Juan—they who are to be competitors in the sports—the real wrestlers in the games.
These are young men of all grades in society, and all of them mounted—of course, each in the best way he can. There they go, prancing over the ground, causing their gaily caparisoned steeds to caper and curvet, especially in front of the tiers of seated señoritas. There are miners among them, and young hacendados, and rancheros, and vaqueros, and ciboleros, and young merchants who ride well. Every one rides well in Mexico—even the dwellers in cities are good horsemen.
Nearly a hundred are there of these youths who intend to take part in the various trials of skill in equitation.
Let the sports begin!
Chapter Three.
The first exhibition on the programme was to be the coleo de toros, which may be rendered in English as “tailing the bull.” It is only in the very large cities of Mexico where a regular plaza de toros, or arena for the bull-fight, is to be found; but in every tillage, however insignificant, the spoil of bull-tailing may be witnessed, as this only requires an open plain, and as wild a bull as can be procured. The sport is not quite so exciting as the bull-fight, as it is less perilous to those engaged in it. Not unfrequently, however, a gored horse or a mutilated rider is produced by the “coleo;” and fatal accidents have occurred at times. The horses, too, sometimes stumble, and both horse and rider are trampled by the others crowding from behind, so that in the pellmell drive awkward accidents are anything but uncommon. The coleo is, therefore, a game of strength, courage, and skill; and to excel in it is an object of high ambition among the youth of a New Mexican settlement.
The arrangements having been completed, it was announced by a herald that the coleo was about to begin. These arrangements were simple enough, and consisted in collecting the crowd to one side, so that the bull, when let loose, would have a clear track before him in the direction of the open country. Should he not be allowed this favour he might head towards the crowd,—a thing to be apprehended. In fear of this, most of the women were to be seen mounting into the rude carretas, scores of which were upon the ground, having carried their owners to the spectacle. Of course the señoras and señoritas on the raised benches felt secure.
The competitors were now drawn up in a line. There were a dozen detailed for this first race,—young men of all classes, who were, or fancied themselves, “crack” riders. There were rancheros in their picturesque attire, smart arrieros, miners from the hills, townsmen, hacendados of the valley, vaqueros from the grazing-farms, and ciboleros, whose home is for the most part on the wide prairies. Several dragoons, too, were arrayed with the rest, eager to prove their superiority in the manège of the horse.
At a given signal the bull was brought forth from a neighbouring corral. He was not led by men afoot,—that would have been a dangerous undertaking. His conductors were well-mounted vaqueros, who, with their lazoes around his horns, were ready, in case of his showing symptoms of mutiny, to fling him to the earth by a jerk.
A vicious-looking brute he appeared, with shaggy frontlet and scowling lurid eye. It was plain that it only needed a little goading to make him a still more terrible object; for he already swept his tail angrily against his flanks, tossed his long straight horns in the air, snorted sharply, and beat the turf at intervals with his hoofs. He was evidently one of the fiercest of a fierce race—the race of Spanish bulls.
Every eye was fixed upon him with interest, and the spectators freely commented upon his qualities. Some thought him too fat, others alleged he was just in the condition to make a good run—as, in the coleo, speed, not courage, is the desirable quality. This difference of opinions led to the laying of numerous wagers on the result,—that is, the time that should elapse from the start until the bull should be “tailed” and “thrown.” The throwing of the bull, of course ends the chase.
When it is considered that the brute selected is one of the strongest, swiftest, and fiercest of his kind, and that no weapon—not even the lazo—is allowed, it will be admitted this is a matter of no easy accomplishment. The animal goes at full run, almost as fast as the horse can gallop; and to bring him to the ground under these circumstances requires the performance of a feat, and one that demands skill, strength, and the best of horsemanship. That feat is to seize the bull by the tail, and jerk the animal off his legs!
The bull was led out some two hundred yards beyond the line of horsemen, where he was halted, with his head turned to the open plain. The lazoes, that held him by a leash-knot, were then cautiously slipped, two or three fire-squibs, pointed and barbed, were shot into his hips, and away he went amidst the yells of the spectators!
Next moment the riders spurred after, each shouting in his own fashion.
Soon the line was broken, and a confused spread of