quarters,—each vying with the other for the prize for strength,—and his great
girth, give a look of astonishing vigour and vitality to the animal. It is the head
of the buffalo, however, which it is best to look at on these occasions. Its great
spread of horns is very imposing, and the eyes, which are usually sleepy,
cynically contemptuous and indifferent, or sullenly cruel, are for once full of
life, anger, passion, and excitement. He stands there quivering and stamping,
blowing great clouds of smoke from his mouth and nose:—
“With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim,
And with circles of red for his eye-socket’s rim.“The wild joy of battle is sending the blood boiling through the great arteries of
the beast, and his accustomed lethargic existence is galvanised into a new fierce
life. You can see that he is longing for the battle with an ardour that would have
distanced that of a Quixote, and, for the first time, you begin to see something to
admire even in the water-buffalo.
“A crowd of Râjas, Chiefs, and commoners are assembled, in their gaily-
coloured garments, which always serve to give life and beauty to every Malay
picture, with its setting of brilliant never-fading green. The women in their
gaudy silks, and dainty veils, glance coquettishly from behind the fenced
enclosure which has been prepared for their protection, and where they are quite
safe from injury. The young Râjas stalk about, examine the bulls, and give loud
and contradictory orders as to the manner in which the fight is to be conducted.
The keepers, fortunately, are so deafened by the row which every one near them
is making, that they are utterly incapable of following directions which they
cannot hear. Malays love many people and many things, and one of the latter is
the sound of their own voices. When they are excited—and in the bull-ring they
are always wild with excitement—they wax very noisy indeed, and, as they all
talk, and no one listens to what any one else is saying, the green sward on which
the combat is to take place speedily becomes a pandemonium, compared with
which the Tower of Babel was a quiet corner in Sleepy Hollow.
“At last the word to begin is given, and the keepers of the buffaloes let out the
lines made fast to the bulls’ noses, and lead their charges to the centre of the
green. The lines are crossed, and then gradually drawn taut, so that the bulls are
soon facing one another. Then the knots are loosed, and the cords slip from the
nose-rings. A dead silence falls upon the people, and for a moment the