1923 Yearbook
Source URL
Title
1923 Yearbook
Description
THE AMBROSIAN
driven forest fire in August. A heavy pecuniary rain, with gold and silver drops, continued for several minutes.
The provoker of this generosity, by way of approbation, went through his singular
bow; but this time he added a most pepsodent smile. The multitude, pleased that he
was pleased, gave way to another energetic demonstration. In the midst of this laudation the youthful hero retired to his dressing room to prepare for the next round of
killing.
Two picadores led a team of horses to the spot where the dead charger lay in a pool
of his own blood. The smaller of the two busied himself with fastening a drag rope to
the hind legs of the carcass while his partner, a huge fellow, tugged and pulled in a
vain effort to extricate the sword. He called to his companion. Together they
strained at the solidly lodged blade but their efforts were fruitless.
Surely this was an excellent opportunity for a wine-filled holidaying crowd to rid
their systems of pent-up quips and gibes. The congregation was not tardy in taking
advantage of this ludicrous event. Wit and humor were the principal as each merry
gentleman strove to outdo his neighbor in the provocation of laughter. The poor
picadores were in an embarrassing position. Five or six banderillas who had been elegantly lounging along the side lines hastened to the assistance of their unfortunate
comrades. By the time the entire audience was in a boisterous upheaval. The large
picadore spat viciously upon his hands, grasped the hilt in his steel-like grips, braced
his feet firmly upon the beast's breast. The others formed a close line and each took
hold around the waist of his predecessor. One—two—three—tug! The picadores
toppled backward and fell in a heap as the sword jerked from its vise of flesh. It was
a humble, lowly group of men that led the horses with the dead bull in tow from the
unwelcome limelight, using all possible acceleration.
Walenkeeno again entered the arena. Again he was greeted by an infinite spasm of
plaudits. He dispatched this opponent in short order.
Thus the sanguine pastime continued. Seventeen more-victims were slaughtered
indifferently by the skillful matador. With each life ending sword-drive he seemed to
grow more reckless and dazzling. But all these were but unimportant exhibitions
leading up to and forecasting the feature event of the day—Walenkeeno, undisputed
emperor of bull-fighters, versus Tres Diables, a fierce bull whose size was that of a
box-car and who had gained notoriety by goring unmercifully several of the most
prominent and many of the lesser matadors. It had been said that a sword propelled by
the hand of man could not pierce his armor-like hide or penetrate his muscle-woven
flesh. Indeed it was the battle of the century and it promised to be a game one, too.
Just at this time, however, we must note the well-timed entry of Lady Yvetto
Zontella, far famed for her pulchritude and for her unrivalled love affairs in which she
had played well the role of the vampire. Many times the name of Walenkeeno had
been associated with that of this Spanish Cleopatra in those knowing conversations of
cafe, fireside and market-place. But in regard to the entry it may well be termed a
Page 19 0
driven forest fire in August. A heavy pecuniary rain, with gold and silver drops, continued for several minutes.
The provoker of this generosity, by way of approbation, went through his singular
bow; but this time he added a most pepsodent smile. The multitude, pleased that he
was pleased, gave way to another energetic demonstration. In the midst of this laudation the youthful hero retired to his dressing room to prepare for the next round of
killing.
Two picadores led a team of horses to the spot where the dead charger lay in a pool
of his own blood. The smaller of the two busied himself with fastening a drag rope to
the hind legs of the carcass while his partner, a huge fellow, tugged and pulled in a
vain effort to extricate the sword. He called to his companion. Together they
strained at the solidly lodged blade but their efforts were fruitless.
Surely this was an excellent opportunity for a wine-filled holidaying crowd to rid
their systems of pent-up quips and gibes. The congregation was not tardy in taking
advantage of this ludicrous event. Wit and humor were the principal as each merry
gentleman strove to outdo his neighbor in the provocation of laughter. The poor
picadores were in an embarrassing position. Five or six banderillas who had been elegantly lounging along the side lines hastened to the assistance of their unfortunate
comrades. By the time the entire audience was in a boisterous upheaval. The large
picadore spat viciously upon his hands, grasped the hilt in his steel-like grips, braced
his feet firmly upon the beast's breast. The others formed a close line and each took
hold around the waist of his predecessor. One—two—three—tug! The picadores
toppled backward and fell in a heap as the sword jerked from its vise of flesh. It was
a humble, lowly group of men that led the horses with the dead bull in tow from the
unwelcome limelight, using all possible acceleration.
Walenkeeno again entered the arena. Again he was greeted by an infinite spasm of
plaudits. He dispatched this opponent in short order.
Thus the sanguine pastime continued. Seventeen more-victims were slaughtered
indifferently by the skillful matador. With each life ending sword-drive he seemed to
grow more reckless and dazzling. But all these were but unimportant exhibitions
leading up to and forecasting the feature event of the day—Walenkeeno, undisputed
emperor of bull-fighters, versus Tres Diables, a fierce bull whose size was that of a
box-car and who had gained notoriety by goring unmercifully several of the most
prominent and many of the lesser matadors. It had been said that a sword propelled by
the hand of man could not pierce his armor-like hide or penetrate his muscle-woven
flesh. Indeed it was the battle of the century and it promised to be a game one, too.
Just at this time, however, we must note the well-timed entry of Lady Yvetto
Zontella, far famed for her pulchritude and for her unrivalled love affairs in which she
had played well the role of the vampire. Many times the name of Walenkeeno had
been associated with that of this Spanish Cleopatra in those knowing conversations of
cafe, fireside and market-place. But in regard to the entry it may well be termed a
Page 19 0
Date
1923
Rights
St. Ambrose University, 518 W. Locust St., Davenport, IA 52803
Identifier
http://cdm16810.contentdm.oclc.org/cdm/ref/collection/p16810coll2/id/7801