te period, I was merely a passive spectator of
the scenes enacted, and in general disgusted with their enactment. But
at other times I have proved the existence of those traits in my
character. In the field of battle, to my knowledge, I have saved my
life three times by the quick perception of danger and the promptness to
ward it off. Either less or more brave, I should have lost it. This
may seem an enigma; it appears a puzzle; it is an experience.

In my earlier life I was addicted to what are termed "manly sports." In
running and leaping I never met my superior; and my feats in such
exercises are still recorded in the memories of my college companions.

Do not wrong me, and think that I am boasting of these peculiarities.
The first is but an accident in my mental character; and others are only
rude accomplishments, which now, in my more matured life, I see but
little reason to be proud of. I mention them only to illustrate what
follows.

Ever since the hour of my capture I had busied my mind with plans of
escape. Not the slightest opportunity had as yet offered. All along
the journey we had been guarded with the most zealous vigilance.

During this last night a new plan had occupied me. It had been
suggested by seeing Sanchez upon his horse.

I had matured it all, except getting possession of a weapon; and I had
hopes of escape, although I had neither time nor opportunity to detail
them to the torero. It would have served no purpose to have told him
them.

I knew that I might escape, even without the weapon; but I needed it, in
case there might be in the tribe a faster runner than myself. I might
be killed in the attempt; that was likely enough; but I knew that death
could not come in a worse shape than that in which I was to meet it on
the morrow. Weapon or no weapon, I was resolved to escape, or die in
attempting it.

I saw them untying O'Cork. He was to run first.

There was a circle of savages around the starting-point; old men and
idlers of the village, who stood there only to witness the sport.

There was no apprehension of our escaping; that was never thought of: an
inclosed valley, with guards at each entrance; plenty of horses standing
close by, that could be mounted in a few minutes. It would be
impossible for any of us to get away from the ground. At least, so
thought they.

O'Cork started.

Poor Barney! His race was not a long one. He had not run ten paces
down the living av