mettlesome and prepared to devote all his attention to anything that might seem to offend. If you had met him crossing an open field in the country, for instance, you would have got over the nearest fence with the greatest possible celerity. He was not bad, but simply an impulsive animal without experience of the world. A type of all his class, he began wrong and went on to worse; he blundered from one fatal error to another through pure hot-headedness and failure to reason till he came to a violent end.
One of the chulos first attracts his notice by waving a cloak, and the bull makes a dive for him. The chulo gets out of the way, and there sits a picador.
"Ah, it is you, my friend, is it?" the bull seems to say. "Well, look out for yourself; here's one for your nob."
He lowers his horns and makes a charge. The picador evades him. He makes another charge; the picador wounds him deftly with his lance, and again escapes.
"Bueno (good), picador" cries the Sol, the sunny side. The bull takes after him and inserts a horn in the flank of the horse. "Bueno, toro!" cries the Sol, impartially.
The chulos divert his attention with their waving cloaks, as their custom is when any one is in danger, and a second round begins.
This time perhaps the picador, either the same or another, stands firm and meets the shock. His lance penetrates the attacking animal, and its cruel head can be seen sliding along the ribs beneath the hide. The bull, ignorant of what is hurting him, persists, and makes every
effort to get near his persecutor. He reaches the horse with a horn. The horse's breast is protected by a heavy
leather frontlet, or apron, but he gets his horn under this. There is a pushing and tussling match that recalls a foot-
