They nip and pinch each other, and squeal with pain and
anger. Ah, the winner still keeps his prize! Again he is caught, and this
time it seems as if he must succumb. But his horse helps him out and, by
clinging desperately to the horn of the saddle and his horse's mane, he
wrests himself away from his pursuer, aided by the shying of the pursuing
horse, which is kicked and bitten by his own animal. But where is the
pursuer? His horse is dashing riderless away. Is he trampled to death in
that swirling, sandy conflict? No, he is hanging on to the man with the
rooster, belabored the while with the now bloody and dilapidated bird.
Regardless of this he still clings, although the horse is bounding along at
great speed, and a hundred or more are following, all yelling and
encouraging him not to let go. With a superb effort, he swings himself onto
the horse behind the saddle, and with a second sudden move grabs the
rooster and wrests half of it out of the original victor's hands. Seeing a
chance to escape he drops upon the sand, picks himself up unhurt, and is
soon seated upon a new horse. Now he becomes the pursued, and two bands,
instead of one, of howling, raving, shouting demons, occupy the attention.
Finish of Contest. And thus the struggle goes on, good-naturedly, yet with
a fierceness of energy that is exhausting in its wild excitement;
exhausting to the onlooker, as well as the participant.
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