The Fourth of July was at hand now, and the owner of the tavern, growing weary of the huge captive in the yard, announced that he would celebrate Independence Day with a grand fight between a “picked and fighting range bull and a ferocious Californian Grizzly.”  The news was spread far and wide by the “Grapevine Telegraph.”  The roof of the stable was covered with seats at fifty cents each.  The hay-wagon was half loaded and drawn alongside the corral; seats here gave a perfect view and were sold at a dollar apiece.  The old corral was repaired, new posts put in where needed, and the first thing in the morning a vicious old bull was herded in and tormented till he was “snuffy” and extremely dangerous.

Jack meanwhile had been roped, “choked down,” and nailed up in his hogshead.  His chain and collar were permanently riveted together, so the collar was taken off, as “it would be easy to rope him, if need be, after the bull was through with him."

The hogshead was rolled over to the corral gate and all was ready.

The cowboys came from far and near in their most gorgeous trappings, and the California cowboy is the peacock of his race.  Their best girls were with them, and farmers and ranchmen came for fifty miles to enjoy the Bull-and-Bear fight.  Miners from the hills were there, Mexican sheep-herders, storekeepers from Placerville, strangers from Sacramento; town and county, mountain and plain, were represented.  The hay-wagon went so well that another was brought into market.  The barn roof was sold out.  An ominous crack of the timbers somewhat shook the prices, but a couple of strong uprights below restored the market, and all “The Corners” was ready and eager for the great fight.  Men who had been raised among cattle were betting on the bull.

“I tell you, there ain’t nothing on earth kin face a big range bull that hez good use of hisself.”

But the hillmen were backing the Bear.  “Pooh, what’s a bull to a Grizzly?  I tell you, I seen a Grizzly send a horse clean over the Hetch-Hetchy with one clip of his left.  Bull!  I’ll bet he’ll never show up in the second round.”

So they wrangled and bet, while burly women, trying to look fetching, gave themselves a variety of airs, were “scared at the whole thing, nervous about the uproar, afraid it would be shocking,” but really were as keenly interested as the men.

All was ready, and the boss of “The Corners” shouted:  “Let her go, boys; house is full an’ time’s up!”

Faco Tampico had managed to tie a bundle of chaparral thorn to the bull’s tail, so that the huge creature had literally lashed himself into a frenzy.