The gamblers rushed into the fray; the table was overturned and there
was a pandemonium of cries and curses. Manuel awoke with a frightened
start. He found himself in the midst of an awful row; most of the
gamblers, with the tavern-owner's brother at their head, wanted to
throw Leandro out, but the raging youth, backed against the counter,
was kicking off anybody that approached him.
"Leave us alone!" shouted Valencia, his lips slavering as he tried to
work himself free of the men who were holding him.
"Yes, leave them alone," said one of the gamblers.
"I'll kill the first guy that touches me," warned El Valencia,
displaying a long knife with black blades.
"That's the stuff," commented Leandro mockingly. "Let's see who are
the red-blooded men."
"Ole!" shouted Pastiri enthusiastically, in his husky voice.
Leandro drew from the inside pocket of his sack-coat a long, narrow
knife; the onlookers retreated to the walls so as to leave plenty of
room for the duellists. Paloma began to bawl:
"You'll get killed! You'll get killed, I'm telling you!"
"Take that woman away," yelled Valencia in a tragic voice: "Ea!" he
added, cleaving the air with his knife. "Now let's see who are the men
with guts!"
The two rivals advanced to the centre of the tavern, glaring furiously
at each other.
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