Wide Courses Part 31

"A few of these men, as Cogan looked on, stood out from the others; and after a time from among those few stood one by himself. From the first Cogan had noticed that he was very fast and clever--and strong, yes. It was his quickness and skill, even more than his strength, which counted.

He used the bull's strength against the bull himself. He wasn't much more than medium height or weight, but beautifully developed--they were all finely developed men--and behind his muscular power was all kinds of nervous energy. And a great way of doing things, not an extra motion of any kind--no wasteful flourishes or posings. Not that he didn't have style. Style!--he had so much of it that he didn't seem to be half trying. Everything and everybody seemed to be playing into his hands--even the bull. And he was such a human kind, laughing and joking as he bounded and ran about! And he must have said many funny things, they all laughed so; and he took a lot of trouble to coach some of them in their practice.

"Cogan later saw him in the dressing-room. He came off the field before the others, and while they were yet practising he had had his bath. He was now dressing and Cogan saw that he wore fine linen and fas.h.i.+onably-cut clothes. He had a room to himself off the main dressing-room, and two attendants jumped to serve him. From time to time, standing at the door of his dressing-room putting on a collar or adjusting his tie, he would sweep a glance at Cogan. His eyes were friendly. They were also of good size and deep-set, Cogan now had a chance to see; but they had also an absent, wistful expression which made Cogan wonder, for at this young fellow's age, and he the star of the troupe, it's little in life should have been bothering him.

"By and by the others came in, and with their coming Cogan's favorite was again lively and laughing. Soon he was ready for the street. And all dressed up he was a great swell. As he pa.s.sed out those in his way skipped to one side, while those in the corners ran forward to catch his eye and smile at him. 'Torellas, Torellas,' Cogan heard again and again in the most admiring and affectionate tones.

"After he had gone out the door, Cogan asked one of the bull-fighters who he was. But his 'Spanish Without A Master' didn't seem to be working very well, and the man he questioned called out 'Ferrero--Oh, Ferrero!'

saying to Cogan 'Ferrero spik the Ingliss--O fine-a--good-a Ingliss.'

"A man that Cogan recognized as one of the liveliest performers in the ring, though somewhat older than the others, came over and bowed politely.

"'Senor, if you will tell me--who is Torellas?' asked Cogan in English.

"'Torellas'--Ferrero pointed toward the door--'he departed only one moment ago.'

"'Senor, I saw, and thank you. But who is he?'

"'Torellas? Who ees Torellas?' Not only Ferrero, but every bull-fighter in the place took a peek at Cogan. Ferrero looked around the room to make sure the others had heard. 'He asks me'--or so Cogan guessed he said, for now he was speaking Spanish--'he asks me who is Torellas!' at which they all craned their necks to get another peek at Cogan, and there was a lot of sputtering talk among them. Cogan guessed that they were saying many very funny things about the man who did not know who Torellas was. Ferrero turned to Cogan, now in English, 'Sir, a stranger?' And Cogan said, 'Si, senor, a stranger--from the United States.'

"And Ferrero said, 'Ah-h--Americano--cer-tain-ly,' in the most charitable tone. 'Senor, I speak your language a leetla bit. It is true I lived one time in your contry--a fine contry is U-ni-ted Stat-es--two years--yes, sir, surely. Listen, please. Torellas, sir, he ees born here, in thees very city, a Peruvian. We are proud of him. The prodeegious skill, the strength, the light foot, the stroke of the espada, the sword of Torellas--a descending thunderbolt it ees--but oh, he ees not to be descripsheeoned. Some day you shall see--you shall not depart until you have seen. Even now he ees in Peru--yes, sir--in all South America the supreme matador. Soon--we have the a.s.surance of it, senor--he shall go to Spain, to Madrid, and in the great bull-ring there he shall kill his bulls before the king and queen, and, have no fear, senor, Spain shall also proclaim his superiority. Already, if he so desires, fifty, seventy-five thousand--truly, sir--dollars gold in the year--shall be his for his splendid genius. Yes, sir--and renown without death. We are proud of him. Even now he ees with us--how shall I say it?--ah, senor, even now, but at twenty years of age he ees with us as the great John L. Sullivano was in United Stat-es when I lived there a leetle boy--in New Yorrik--twenty years ago.'

"And Cogan said to himself--'This Torellas person must surely be some cla.s.s.'

"'And, senor--surely'--Ferrero had only stopped to get his breath--'it would be criminal not to view Torellas in all his splendor--not as you have viewed him this mor-rn-ing--that was play--but in the full strength of his science, his art--deliverin-g, senor, the final stroke to the ferocious bull.'

"Cogan also began to see that it would be a crime not to view the great man in action, and he was also told that even more than Torellas the matador they loved Torellas the man, the good comrade.

"Cogan became quite friendly with the bull-fighters. He inquired further of Ferrero, who in the ring was a banderillo--that is, one of the people who stick the decorated stakes in the bull's neck--possibly Senor Ferrero knew of a mounted capeador by the name of Juan Roca.

"'Juan? Who does not? Yes, sir. Very much, sir,' and went on to tell Cogan that Juan, the best mounted capeador in all South America, was that very morning breaking in a new horse on the ranch of Don Vicente Guillen outside the city.

"Ferrero was a most friendly person, and invited Cogan to eat with him, and Cogan went. Ten or a dozen bull-fighters boarded in one place near the bull-ring--a large, square, two-story adobe house; a grand house, with walls painted in colors and splendid high rooms arranged around a patio inside.

"It was now high noon, and warm enough in the sunny streets outside, but in the patio it was cool, with a breeze from the Pacific, and after lunch the bull-fighters sat around there and smoked cigarettes and played stringed instruments, all but a few wild ones who went leaping and springing about the garden walks. Cogan could not hide his interest in this jumping exercise, and Ferrero, seeing it, invited him to join in, which Cogan did, and beat everybody there jumping. He did so well that Ferrero asked him if he could jump over a horse, and he said he'd try it. So they went out and got a horse, and Cogan jumped over it. And then they brought in another and placed the two side by side, and Cogan jumped over the pair of them, at which they all shouted 'Bueno, bueno, Americano!' and Ferrero slapped him on the back and told him he must stay with them and practice bull-fighting.

"Cogan had another question. Was not the mounted capeador Juan Roca a brother of Luis Roca, the hat dealer? And he was told that he was, and that Luis Roca was now engaged in an enormous hat business with the United States, and had grown very wealthy, thanks to the increase of trade since the American occupation of the Isthmus. And Cogan inquired further--was there a daughter who would be now about eighteen? 'A daughter? Blood of a bull--surely.' And beautiful? Beautee-full! the Senorita Roca beautee-full? Mother of G.o.d!' If he wished, he could post himself on the Pasada that very afternoon--any afternoon--and see her driving with her jolly good father or her proud mother, or it might be with Senor Lorenzo de Guavera. 'And,' added Ferrero, 'you will meet Juan there also--if he ees returned from the ranch.'

"In the cool of the afternoon they went to the Pasada, which is where everybody in Lima who has a pair of horses and a coachman goes driving of an afternoon. They pace up one side and down the other. Cogan never saw so many fine horses and beautiful women in such a short time. And he saw the hat dealer--the same lively, good-humored Grand Duke man to look at, dressed in the same style of white ducks and big Panama hat, with the same great beard down on his chest. Beside him was a stately, beautiful girl. Cogan stared. He could see the resemblance right away.

'That must be an elder sister,' he thought, 'and that must be her mother.' The mother was beautiful, too; but also she knew it. There was also a well-set-up, well-dressed, well-groomed, distinguished looking man.

"Cogan was staring after the carriage, when he heard a voice in his ear.

Ferrero was speaking to him. 'Ah-h, you know heem, Luis, Juan's brother, yes? And the senora?--and the Senorita Valera?'

"'Valera? But that is not the little girl--'

"'Leetle girl?'

"'Has she not--the senorita--a younger sister?'

"'Sister? There ees no sister--only herself.'

"And so his little Valera had grown into that stately, self-possessed young lady. Cogan felt sad.

"'And some say he ees to be betrothed to her, yes. Senor--Mister Guavera, yes--that ees heem. A splendid man. Poor Torellas. Ah-h, but here ees Juan coming. He speaks the most beautee-full English.

Behold--Juan!'

"Ferrero was pointing out a square-shouldered, compactly built, bronzed man of five feet seven or so, who was carving curved shapes out of the air with his hands and pointing to one horse and then another in the parade to ill.u.s.trate his words. To further ill.u.s.trate, he carved beautiful figures with his cane and raised one knee after the other violently to depict the animal's action. A man full of gimp, Juan seemed to be. 'It is his new horse,' explained Ferrero. 'He will tell us of it, too.' And he did--went over it all again after he had been introduced to Cogan. 'Oh, a marvel of a horse,' he wound up, 'and I shall ride him in the next fiesta.'

"Ferrero reintroduced Cogan to Juan as one who knew his brother Luis.

"'But I met him only once,' added Cogan.

"'Once? It is sufficient,' a.s.sured Juan. 'Fully sufficient. To meet Luis once is to meet him forever. He is always the same. But some others--not so. You have been s.h.i.+pwrecked, yes? You lost everything?

Ah-h, that is most hard luck, but do not despair. I, too, was a sailor--one time. One time only, gracias a Dios! My ancestors, I think, were of the land entirely. The sea-sickness--pir-r-h--no, no, not for me. But do not mind. But pardon, senor'--he turned to Ferrero--'attend to me, Ferrero. I am grieved to-day. It is the senora again. What matters it whether a man is a muletero, gaucho, toreador, or what?

Torellas, now, has been all--so have I, her brother-in-law--or a seller of hats or a member of the cabinet? What, I ask you'--he turned to Cogan--'are we senor? We are men or we are not? So? Very well, let us say no more, but find a cafe and have our coffee. It has been very dusty to-day--very.'

"Two cups of coffee, and Juan was talking to Cogan like a brother. And he could talk like a highspeed dynamo. 'A man--can he be no greater than a man, I ask you, sir? Luis, he will be glad to see you, if you came in rags--no matter--he is always the same, always. But the senora--pir-r-h.

That is it--you have it--Proud! A good woman, mind'--Juan leaned over and tapped Cogan's arm to let him know there must be no mistake on that point--'the best of women, but'--he sighed--'Luis, he is from home six months in the year, and she it is who has the training of Valera. And once she was as like her father as--oh, and such a heart! But she will become--I fear it now--like her mother. And her mother does not want Torellas.

"'And Torellas! A torero, yes. But whether a man is muletero, vaquero, or torero, what matters it? Torellas has been all three, and I, too--I, her brother-in-law, but what matters it? Luis, my brother, was, oh, so poor when they married, but, my friend, I who say it--I, his brother--a scamp possibly, yes, but we had family. A handsome boy was Luis, and she--I admit it--very beautiful and good. But Luis--Luis becomes wealthy. At once the senora must have a grand son-in-law. Torellas is a toreador,--yes,--but also Torellas is something more than that. The strong arm, the quick eye, the'--Juan slapped himself on the left breast--'the brave heart, yes. But more than that. I know, senor, I who have been'--he touched them off on succeeding finger-tips--'gaucho in Argentina, cowboy in your country, a soldier in the Chilean war, horse-breaker--but I have not fingers sufficient--I who have roamed far, I know men. And Torellas--but you have seen him, senor? Ah-h--then you, too, know. Is he not a man? Ah-h--and surely a man can be but a man. And Torellas,'--Juan pounded the table,--'he is a man--Pir-r'--Juan whirled in his chair--'_Pedro, cafe_--_al instante. Tres, si, si_--_tres_.'

"'But, Juan,' asks Ferrero when the coffee came, 'a few months ago we thought--'

"'Exactly--we all thought. It is the senora. Listen, Mr. Cogan. You have the warm heart, the friendly eye, you, too, shall know. Torellas and my niece they have regard for each other, and she, the senora, sees no harm until this Guavera, the politician, comes. Oh, a great man--he is to be in the next cabinet--possibly. I repeat--possibly. The senora waits for a chance to terminate with Torellas. Very well. Torellas receives many letters from foolish girls. So do I, and Ferrero. Pir-r-h--what torero of fame does not? And the senora, she points to me--as an example. It is true that I am a weak man and I have no wife--no family--'

"Ferrero began to laugh. 'Mr. Cogan, there was a lady'--begins Ferrero.

"'T-t-t, Ferrero allow me. If we shall have old woman's gossip, allow it also to be the truth. I was riding, senor, one fine, splendid Argentine horse--such a horse!--when a carriage approached and a lady--such a lady!--veiled, you understand, stands before me and a voice says--"Is this not Senor Juan Roca?" It is true that I had received a note that day--and why not, senor? What heart would not beat--but that is nothing.

I had no more than kissed the tips of her fingers this beautiful evening, when a giant of a man leaps out. I did not even know that she had a husband. I do not know yet that he is her husband. I did not even know who she was, and he--he was as one sweeping down from a balloon, an aeroplane; but, senor, I who can be gentle, as you can without doubt understand, I can also be as the sea storm which wrecks great s.h.i.+ps. I beat this interloper--ah-h--beau-tifully--'

"'The whole city knew of it--such a scandal'--concluded Ferrero for him.

"'Ferrero, enough. I am no destroyer of homes. But the senora, Mr.

Cogan, takes occasion to point the finger at me. "There is your mounted capeador, your brave toreador," she says to Luis, "and they are all alike." But Torellas is not so. My heart withers for him. You must understand, senor'--Juan turned anew to Cogan--'that Torellas is as my own son. He tells me all. I have seen him burn in one day ten letters--yes, his own heart burning for love, you understand. Such a boy! He should be a Seminarian. But her mother, she says it is scandalous! As if he could stop them from writing! He must give up bull-fighting! Torellas give up bull-fighting! Our matador, the nation's hero, give up--pir-r-h--if I were Torellas--No matter, I tell him to come to the house as before. Luis favors him. I favor him. Old Tina favors him, and, I think--I think--Valera herself--but she is too proud to say. She, also, considers it--beseeched him to give up bull-fighting!

That was the senora's influence. If he were an ordinary matador--but the great Torellas! Pir-r-h--but a moment.' Juan whirled to the waiter, '_Pedro, mas cafe!_'

"Juan downed his coffee in a gulp. 'And you shall come with us to see Luis,' he goes on. 'Come in your s.h.i.+pwreck clothes, it shall not matter to Luis. I recollect now, sir, you are the American sailor he saw one time in Colon. He has conversed many times of you. The senora will not like it, you understand, you a sailor, but with the senorita, it is but to charm the more. She loves me, her hard dog of an uncle, because I, who have adventured, can tell her a thousand tales. You have adventured also and she is yet her father's child. Do not mind that I speak frankly, but come. If I speak thus to you, it is because I know that you, senor, are one to understand and to trust. We shall be glad to see you. You go with Ferrero now? Ver-ry good.' Juan stood up and with his cane he saluted profoundly. 'Good-by, sir. Ferrero, a Dios.' He went as he came, with a rush.

"Stirred up by Juan, Cogan thought of calling that very night on Luis Roca and his family. But he did not go, nor next day, nor that week. He saw Juan regularly in the bull-ring, and always Juan urged him afresh, but Cogan did not go to see the Rocas. 'Later,' perhaps, he said to Juan, who stared wonderingly at him but did not ask why.

"And so things went for several weeks, until that morning when the American battle fleet came steaming into Callao harbor. Cogan was one of twenty or thirty thousand who crowded to the stone pier that day, and when the beautiful white s.h.i.+ps came rounding in, he felt very proud. And the yellow tongues of flame flas.h.i.+ng and the white sides of the great war-s.h.i.+ps gleaming through the smoke--it made a tremendous impression on everybody; but to Cogan's eyes the tears came. People near him said, 'Americano?' inquiringly, to which Cogan's bull-fighting friends replied--'Si, si, Americano,' and added a 'Heep, heep, hoo-raw!' to make Cogan feel more at home.

"That was the morning that Torellas told Cogan that if he wished he could go into the ring on the occasion of the festival which Peru was to hold in honor of the American fleet. And such an occasion it was to be!

A welcome from a younger to the older republic. There was to be a great bull-fight, at which Torellas was to make his last appearance before going to Spain.

"Spain! Madrid! The highest of honors! Cogan looked at Torellas, but the matador didn't seem to be so very glad."

The pump-man seemed to be listening to something. "Hear 'em?" he asked.