There were men and boys there of all ages and all colors, and of many languages and nationalities.

But I noticed one quite conspicuous and surprising absence: the traditional brutal faces.
There were no brutal faces.

With no cock-fighting going on, you could have played the gathering on a stranger for a prayer-meeting; and after it began, for a revival--provided you blindfolded your stranger--for the shouting was something prodigious.
A negro and a white man were in the ring; everybody else outside.

The cocks were brought in in sacks; and when time was called, they were taken out by the two bottle-holders, stroked, caressed, poked toward each other, and finally liberated.

The big black cock plunged instantly at the little gray one and struck him on the head with his spur.