Truly, that did not look as if the senorita had prayed for Jose! The Senor Allen had kept the rose.

Look you! It was a token, and he would doubtless wear it upon his breast in the fight, where he hoped later to wear the medalla oro--but where the hands would be folded instead while the padres said mass for him; if indeed mass could be said over a dead gringo! There was laughter to follow that conceit.

And so they talked, and made the tedious time of waiting seem shorter than it was.
Late comers looked for seats, found none, and were forced to content themselves with such perches as neighboring trees and the roofs of the outbuildings might afford.

Peons who had early scrambled to the insecure vantage-point of the nearest stable roof, were hustled off to make room for a group of Salinas caballeros who arrived late.

This was merely the bull-fighting coming now; but bull-fighting never palls, even though bigger things are yet in store.