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The sentence required no confirmation. 'You have no right to
shoot him unless he tries to escape,' I added, firmly.
"'But sangre de Dios!' the sergeant yelled out, bringing his musket up
to the shoulder, 'he is escaping now. Look!'
"But I, as if that Gaspar Ruiz had cast a spell upon me, struck the
musket upward, and the bullet flew over the roofs somewhere. The
sergeant dashed his arm to the ground and stared. He might have
commanded the soldiers to fire, but he did not. And if he had he would
not have been obeyed, I think, just then.
"With his feet against the thickness of the wall and his hairy hands
grasping the iron bar, Gaspar sat still. It was an attitude. Nothing
happened for a time. And suddenly it dawned upon us that he was
straightening his bowed back and contracting his arms. His lips were
twisted into a snarl. Next thing we perceived was that the bar of forged
iron was being bent slowly by the mightiness of his pull. The sun
was beating full upon his cramped, unquivering figure. A shower of
sweat-drops burst out of his forehead.


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