"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. Watching the bar grow crooked, I
saw a little blood ooze from under his finger-nails. Then he let go.
For a moment he remained all huddled up, with a hanging head, looking
drowsily into the upturned palms of his mighty hands. Indeed he seemed
to have dozed off. Suddenly he flung himself backwards on the sill, and
setting the soles of his bare feet against the other middle bar, he bent
that one, too, but in the opposite direction from the first.

"Such was his strength, which in this case relieved my painful feelings.
And the man seemed to have done nothing. Except for the change of
position in order to use his feet, which made us all start by its
swiftness, my recollection is that of immobility. But he had bent the
bars wide apart. And now he could get out if he liked; but he dropped
his legs inwards, and looking over his shoulder beckoned to the
soldiers. 'Hand up the water,' he said. 'I will give them all a drink.'