He drew
his handkerchief and wiped it calmly away, but a red stain remained. At
the same time the two who led the stallion pulled him back from the
barrier and he stood with head high, searching for a more convenient
victim.
Deep silence spread over the arena; more hushed and more hushed it grew,
as if invisible blankets of soundlessness were dropping down over the
stirring masses; men glanced at each other with a vague surmise, knowing
that this was no part of the performance. The whole audience drew
forward to the edge of the seats and stared, first at the monstrous
horse, and next at the group of men who could "ride anything that walks
on four feet and wears a skin."
Some of the women were already turning away their heads, for this was to
be a battle, not a game; but the vast majority of New York merely
watched and waited and smiled a slow, stiff-lipped smile. All the
surroundings were changed, the flaring electric lights, the vast roof,
the clothes of the multitude, but the throng of white faces was the same
as that pale host which looked down from the sides of the Coliseum when
the lions were loosed upon their victims.
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