CHAPTER VII.

A CRUEL SPORT.

TO-MORROW there will be "lots of fun," as Manuel says. After the

morning service in the church (for it will be Sunday) his father will

take him and Dolores to a cock-fight. Manuel has been brought up to

think there is no pleasure like it.

When our government took charge of the island, after the war with

Spain, they forbade any more cock-fighting. But all the people, black

and white, loved the sport so dearly, and felt so bad on account of the

new law, that it has been set aside for the present.

Yes, Manuel, our gentle, kind-hearted little cousin, has seen many

cock-fights. Sunday is the day his people take for the cruel pleasure.

The boy's father has a very handsome cock he has been training for

to-morrow's fight. He has bet quite a large sum on him, and is even

more anxious than his little son for the next day to come. Why, this

game-cock of his has been getting as much care and attention as a fine

horse or pony generally receives from a loving master!

And now it is Sunday. Not even a flea has disturbed Manuel's dreams

all night. Late in the afternoon a carriage comes to the door, and the

planter drives away to the town with his two younger children. His wife

and Teresa do not go, as it is not considered proper; but it is thought

to be all right for Manuel and Dolores, as it is the fashion of this

country for boys and little girls to go.

What a crowd there is around the entrance! Men and children, both black

and white, are jostling each other, talking loudly, and quarrelling

together. See that man elbow his way along! He has a cock under his

arm, probably a contribution to the entertainment.

Manuel's father beckons to a servant who has followed him on horseback

with his precious game-cock in charge, and together they pass inside.

Every one must pay for admission to the show. And what does one see

within? There is a large cleared space covered with sawdust. This is

for the cocks; all around are seats for the people who look on.

Over at one side of the pit a man is lifting the cocks, one by one, and

weighing them to find their fighting weight. See the care with which

each skinny fowl is tied in a bandanna and handled; one would think it

something very precious. And, indeed, they are precious, and cost their

owners many dollars.

Look! the men are fastening sharp knives to the spurs of the poor

fowls, whose necks and backs are bare of feathers. These knives are

sharper than the natural spurs, and will help to make the battle a

deadly one. They are not always used, however.

And now, in the midst of shouts and yells, the first battle begins. It

means death to one or both of the birds. The two cocks enter into the

fight as though they delight in it. See the feathers fly from their

heads and sides!

Ah! one of them is blinded by the dust. His owner rushes up and squirts

alum water in his eyes. The fight goes on till one cock lies breathing

his last on the ground, and the other stands beside him dizzy and

tottering, yet hanging to him still.

There is silence while the bets are paid; then the noise begins again,

and two more cocks are brought in. Battle after battle is fought till

night falls upon the cruel sport.

There is no doubt that these game-cocks enjoy fighting, yet this is no

reason they should be pitted against each other by human beings; nor

that people should think it sport to watch suffering and bloodshed even

among stupid fowls.

It is hoped that Manuel and Dolores will learn better as they grow

older. We cannot blame them now, for the customs of their country have

made it seem quite right and proper.

A still more cruel sport was brought by the Spaniards to Porto Rico,

but it is now forbidden by American law. This is bull-fighting. It

is not long, however, since the finest ladies in the land dressed

themselves in their handsomest gowns, and with their husbands attended

a bull-fight. You would have thought to see the rich jewels and fans,

the fine silks and satins, that they were in a ballroom.

Do not let us think of such sad things any longer, however. Those days

are gone by for ever, let us hope.

While Manuel and Dolores are giving their mother an exciting account of

the Sunday's pleasure, let us go back to the Porto Rico of long, long

ago.

Our Little Porto Rican Cousin · 第 7 / 14 章