Once more the ball at the top was set whirling. The dove, seemingly more accustomed to this motion, rose slowly, so that the final arrow took off a toe, in severing the cord. The bird soared up in concentric circles, but long before the plaudits ceased, it was perched in exactly the same place from which it had risen. The Monbas and Azes fought and struggled with each other for the privilege of carrying the hero off the ground on their shoulders, while the musicians played the folk songs of the Azes. At this juncture, Setos, Alcamayn and Cezardis galloped into the ring, and began putting arrows into the target as they rode by. Round and round they went, sometimes shooting forward, more often backward, first on a leisurely gallop, then on a dead run. Suddenly they wheeled and headed for the entrance where they were met by Yermah, Hanabusa and Ben Hu Barabe, mounted on thoroughbreds, armed with shields, horn-bows and quivers full of murderous-looking arrows. “Hih! hih! hih!” chorused the multitude, as the horsemen made for the target, which was moving up and down while revolving. “Click-ety! click-ety! click-ety! click!” pattered the horses’ hoofs in a fine burst of speed. “Wheel and fire!” shouted the Dorado, suiting the action to the word when nearly opposite the disk. “P—sh!” whistled the arrows as they hit the target almost simultaneously. “Three arrows full tilt!” was the next command, which was no sooner given than obeyed. “Backward shot—three arrows! Send them into the pole; then circle it and pull them out.” The horsemen were crisscrossing each other in every direction, flinging sand into one another’s faces. The spirited animals were rearing and careering, standing on their hind-legs or sitting back on their haunches while this maneuver was being executed. “A souvenir for the women before we go! Let every man of us put a dart into the post on a level with our heads. Then race out of here together.” The horses bent themselves nearly double. With mouths open and nostrils distended, they responded to the impulse of bit and spur. While the spent arrows were vibrating like whipcords, they plunged forward and raced for the entrance neck and neck, urged to their utmost capacity by the fire-crackers and bombs exploding at their heels. The people rose _en masse_, and shouted themselves hoarse, drowning the kettle-drums and gongs in the general uproar. In the midst of it the horsemen whirled and dashed back into the arena, in hot pursuit of Yermah, whose head was almost level with Cibolo’s neck, as this splendid racer stretched himself over the ground.