a_!" exclaimed Andres, "Montes, the Chiclanero, Arjona, Labi,
and the rest of them, had better take care; Juancho will excel them all,
if he has not done so already."

But such exploits as these were not destined to be repeated; Juancho
attained that day the highest sublimity of the art; he did things that
will never be done again. Militona herself could not help applauding;
Andres was wild with delight and admiration; the delirium was at its
height; frantic acclamations greeted every movement of Juancho.

The sixth bull was let into the arena.

Then an extraordinary and unheard-of thing occurred: Juancho, after
playing the bull and manoeuvring his cloak with consummate dexterity,
took his sword, and, instead of plunging it into the animal's neck, as
was expected, hurled it from him with such force, that it turned over
and over in the air, and stuck deep in the ground at the other end of
the circus.

"What is he about," was shouted on all sides. "This is madness--not
courage! What new scheme is this? Will he kill the bull with his bare
hands?"

Juancho cast one look at Militona--one ineffable look of love and
suffering. Then he remained motionless before the bull. The beast
lowered its head. One of its horns entered the breast of the man, and
came out red to the very root. A shriek of horror from a thousand voices
rent the sky.

Militona fell back upon her chair in a deathlike swoon.

FOOTNOTES:

[11] _Sombra por la tarde_,--"shade for the afternoon." The tickets for
the bull-fight vary in value according as they are for the sunny or
shady side of the arena.

[12] Places of bad fame in the respective towns, frequented by thieves
and suspicious characters.

[13] "Half-past eleven, and a fine night."

[14] The stable where the bulls are kept.

THE EMERALD STUDS.

A REMINISCENCE OF THE CIRCUIT.

CHAPTER I.

"Hallo, Tom! Are you not up yet? Why, man, the judges have gone down to
the court half an hour ago, escorted by the most ragged regiment of
ruffians that ever handled a Lochaber-axe."

Such was my matutinal salutation to my friend Thomas Strachan, as I
entered his room on a splendid spring morning. Tom and I were early
college allies. We had attended, or rather, to speak more correctly,
taken out tickets for the different law classes during the same
sessions. We had fulminated together within the walls of the Juridical
Society on legal topics which might have broken the heart of Erskine,