e to his anxious wife and ragged children. He has
lost at once his cock and the price of his industry. Here the least
intelligent discuss the sport; those least given to thought extend the
wings of cocks, feel their muscles, weigh, and ponder. Some are dressed
in elegance, followed and surrounded by the partisans of their cocks;
others, ragged and dirty, the stigma of vice on their blighted faces,
follow anxiously the movements of the rich; the purse may get empty,
the passion remains. Here not a face that is not animated; in this the
Filipino is not indolent, nor apathetic, nor silent; all is movement,
passion. One would say they were all devoured by a thirst always more
and more excited by muddy water.

From this court one passes to the pit, a circle with seats terraced to
the roof, filled during the combats with a mass of men and children;
scarcely ever does a woman risk herself so far. Here it is that
destiny distributes smiles and tears, hunger and joyous feasts.

Entering, we recognize at once the gobernadorcillo, Captain Basilio,
and Jose, the man with the scar, so cast down by the death of his
brother. And here comes Captain Tiago, dressed like the sporting man,
in a canton flannel shirt, woollen trousers, and a jipijapa hat. He
is followed by two servants with his cocks. A combat is soon arranged
between one of these and a famous cock of Captain Basilio's. The
news spreads, and a crowd gathers round, examining, considering,
forecasting, betting.

While men were searching their pockets for their last cuarto, or in
lieu of it were engaging their word, promising to sell the carabao,
the next crop, and so forth, two young fellows, brothers apparently,
looked on with envious eyes. Jose watched them by stealth, smiling
evilly. Then making the pesos sound in his pocket, he passed the
brothers, looking the other way and crying:

"I pay fifty; fifty against twenty for the lasak!"

The brothers looked at each other discontentedly.

"I told you not to risk all the money," said the elder. "If you had
listened to me----"

The younger approached Jose and timidly touched his arm.

"What! It's you?" he cried, turning and feigning surprise. "Does your
brother accept my proposition?"

"He won't do it. But if you would lend us something, as you say you
know us----"

Jose shook his head, shifted his position, and replied:

"Yes, I know you; you are Tarsilo and Bruno; and I know that your
valiant father died from the