did
so, and yet again and again, Torellas, holding him always at arm's
length, swung him back and forth, himself retreating a step at a time,
and with every step the bull plunging on after him. It was just as if he
were snapping the bull on the end of the cape, snapping him back and
forth across his path, as he made his way backward. Torellas was never
so far away but what the bull, with one unexpected lunge, would get him.
But Torellas kept the bull too well in hand for any accidental lunge. At
short range he kept him going, drawing him half way across the ring at
one time, until at last the bull himself, seeming to understand that he
was being fooled, stopped short, and Torellas pulled up, too, and let
his cape hang loosely by his side; but as he did so, instantly and at
full tilt at Torellas went the bull again; but that seeming carelessness
on the part of Torellas was part of his play. With a light upward bound,
as the bull lowered his head to gore him, Torellas stepped between the
horns, and when the great head came up, with the spring of his leap to
the toss of the bull's head, away he went sailing, twenty feet beyond
the bull and landing like a breath of air on his feet.

"While the people were still making the air explode with their applause,
Cogan saw Torellas look wistfully up to where Valera and her people sat.
Cogan looked too. She, leaning back between her mother and Senor
Guavera, with her face cloaked, was almost hidden. Her mother and
Guavera were talking across her as if all this bull-fighting was of all
in the world the thing least interesting to them. Cogan looked back to
the matador. He was bowing, even smiling, to the audience, but Cogan,
who was close enough to mark every line of his face, saw that he was
getting no great joy of his triumph.

"Torellas left the ring, and the banderilleros took possession. These
were the men with the wooden stakes of the length of a man's arm and
the thickness of a thumb, and wrapped around in gay colored paper
ribbon streamers, and at one end a thin iron spike about as long as a
man's little finger. The banderilleros had to stand in front of the
bull, with a stake in each hand, and, as he charged, to step in between
his horns and reach over and plant a stake on each side of his neck.
'It is most simple,' explained Ferrero, as he left Cogan to do his
part--'only--surely--we must not make mistake.' And Cogan could not help
thinking that bull-fighting was like a thou