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.

The gray responded with spirit.