"Tomorrow I shall fight
thee, Indian," he answered "not at nighttime, like a thieving
coyote." "If thou wert not astride thy horse and out of my reach,
thou wouldst not dare say that to me, thou cuckold dupe of the
Americans!" sneered the Indian. This insult to my companion angered
me, and I demanded a retraction and an apology therefor from the
Indian. When the macho flatly refused and repeated the insult in a
more aggravating manner, I replied that I feared not to meet him or
any other goatherding Indian and was ready to fight him on the spot.
Saying this, I dismounted and threw my horse's bridle to my friend
Reyes to hold. Then the cacique, or Pueblo chief, the father of
Jtz-Li-Cama, appeared and demanded our weapons. "I shall not
interfere in this fight, senores," said he, "if you surrender your
weapons to me, the lawful alguacil (officer) of this district." He
then took the macho's knife, and I gave him my revolver and stripped
for the fray.
I advanced and scratched a circle of about twelve feet diameter in
the deep sand with my foot, then I stepped to the center of this ring
and awaited my antagonist. I cautioned my friend Reyes to see to it
that no one else overstepped the line. To the lonely sand dunes of
the Rio Grande unwittingly I thus introduced the manly sport of the
prize ring.
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