Grand Fight to the Death between Full-blooded Spanish Bull,
and Royal Bengal Tiger, Direct from the Jungles of India.
For days before the show came off, conversation in the cafés along the
Escolta invariably turned to the subject of the coming exhibition,
and it was evident that the managers fully intended both to reap
a large harvest of heavy dollars and to wind up the career of the
bull-ring association in a blaze of blood and glory.
The steaming Sunday afternoon found everybody directing his steps
toward the wooden structure which consisted of a lot of rickety
seats piled up around a circular arena. The reserved sections
were covered with a light roof, to keep off the afternoon sun,
but the bleaching-boards for those that held only "billetes de sol"
were exposed to the blinding glare. The audience, a crowd of three
thousand persons, with dark faces showing above suits of white
sheeting, found the centre of the ring ornamented with a huge iron
cage some two rods square, while off at the sides were smaller cages
containing the "fieras," or wild beasts.
The show opened amid breathless excitement, with an exhibition of
panthers, and a man dressed in pink tights ate dinner in the big cage,
after setting off a bunch of firecrackers under one of the "fieras,"
who didn't seem inclined to wake up enough to lick his chops and
make-believe masticate somebody. The daring performer lived to digest
his glass of water, with one cracker thrown in, and a deer was next
introduced into the enclosure. The panther, at command of the keeper
to get to business, seemed unwilling to attack his gentle foe, and
on continued hissing from the big audience, the two animals were at
length withdrawn.
Then great shouts of "El toro! El toro!" arose, as off at the small
gate, at one side, appeared the bull, calmly walking forward, under
the guidance of two natives, who didn't wear any shoes. And renewed
applause arose, as the small heavy cage containing the R. B. tiger was
rolled up to a sliding-door of the central structure. The bull was
shoved into the iron jail, the gate closed, a dozen or more bunches
of firecrackers were set off in the small box holding the tiger, in
order to waken him up, the slide connecting the two was withdrawn,
and, with a deafening roar, the great Indian cat rushed forth and
tried to swallow a man who was standing outside the bars waving a
heated pitchfork. The bull stood quietly in one corner wagging his
tail, and after blinking his eyes once or twice, proceeded to examine
his antagonist, in a most friendly spirit. In fact, there seemed to
be no hard feeling at all between the two beasts, and the tiger only
wanted to get at the gentleman outside the cage, not at the bull. The
audience howled, jeered at the tiger, bet on the bull, and criticised
the man with the pitchfork as he gave the tiger several hard pokes
in the ribs. This served to anger the beast so that he finally did
make a dive at the bull, and promptly found himself tossed into the
air. But as he came down, he hung on to the bull's nose, and dug his
claws into the tough hide. Curiously enough, the bull didn't seem to
mind that in the least, and the two stood perfectly still for some
five minutes, locked in close quarters.
To make a long story short, there occurred four or five of these mild
attacks, always incited by the man with the pitchfork, during which the
bull stepped on the tiger, making him howl with pain, and the latter
badly bit the former on the legs and nose. After the fourth round,
both beasts seemed to be in want of a siesta. It was growing dark,
and the dissatisfied audience cried for another bull and another
tiger. The first animal was finally dragged away, after the tiger
had retreated to his cage, and a fresh bull with more spirit was
introduced. Now, however, the tiger was less game than ever, and no
amount of firecrackers or pitchforkings could induce him to stir from
the small cage. He seemed far too sensible, and literally appeared
to be the possessor of an asbestos skin.
It had now got pretty dark, and the audience joined in the pandemonium
of howls coming from the various cages. People began to light matches
to see their programmes, and the circus-ring looked as if it were
filled with fireflies. Then the programmes themselves were ignited
for more light, and cries of "Give us back our money," "What's
the matter with the tiger?" and others of a less printable order,
arose. Men jumped into the ring, but the tiger refused to move for
anybody. In the hope of stirring things up, a couple of panthers
were again hastily wheeled up and pushed into the cage, where the
bull was standing with an expression of wonder on his face. But the
bull merely licked one panther on the nose and wagged his tail at the
other, while the show was declared off on account of darkness. Then
everybody filed out in disgust, and the man with the tiger, panthers,
and pitchfork made arrangements to sail for foreign shores by the first
steamer. Such was the last performance in the Plaza de Toros de Manila.
It was a pleasant contrast after the fight to adjourn to the
Luneta. The day was Carnival Sunday, and all the young children
of the community were rigged up in many sorts of inconceivable
gowns. Clowns and ballet-dancers, devils and angels, all wandered
up and down the smooth walk, and the crowd was immense. Numbers of
the older people also took part, and many of the smart traps were
occupied with grotesque figures. The artillery-band rendered some of
its finest selections. The ships off in the bay were almost completely
reflected in the calm water. The mountains rose blue, like velvet,
in the distance, and a red glow in the Boca Chica told where the sun
had gone down for us, only to rise on the distant snows of New England.