oint in the bull's shoulder, and
the awful home drive of the great horn into the tottering horse's body.
In such a case the forequarters of the mount are lifted clear from the
ground, and I have even seen a strong eight-year-old bull fling horse
and rider over his back, as if they had been lightly stuffed museum
specimens, instead of weighty flesh and blood. The breed of bulls called
Miura--one of the most dangerous to fighters--generally strike home
about the horse's chest, and thus death is rapid and sudden; but the
famed Muruve bulls usually attack the flanks, and the scenes that follow
this are too shudderingly horrid to put down on clean paper. Even then,
if the wounds allow of the horse standing at all, the stricken beast is
mounted again and led forward for another fall, though the populace
resent this by whistles, as a rule. Whistling, by the way, is the
Spanish method of expressing disapproval.

A bull that takes the stab of the lance without flinching is usually
esteemed and applauded; but a young animal may be turned by the first
chilling pain of the raw steel. If the horse is overthrown, the picador
falls with a crash, and wriggles aside as best he can that the poor
beast may not roll on him. In the nick of time a chulo flaunts his
crimson rag in the bull's face and draws him away from the helpless
lancer, who is hoisted to his feet by the assistants and given a lift on
to his steed's back again--if the latter is still capable of bearing a
man. If not, the dagger-man--"cachetero" he is called--arrives with a
short arrow-headed knife, and severs the doomed beast's backbone at the
neck with one short stab. There is no quicker death. The horse wilts
like a rent air-balloon, and is dead without a quiver.

[Illustration: "A SERIES OF PASSES WITH THE SCARLET FLAG."]

He is happier than the long line of his fellows that wait in the gloomy
stables beyond.

On an average about three horses fall to a bull, but a single bull has
often killed twenty. Some cattle seem to have a leaning towards
horse-slaughter, but the majority appear not to relish it. They stand
before the picador, and gaze as if considering whether it would be
sportsmanlike to rend such a tottering beast. Still, three corpses
usually lie about the sand, with the dark, raw pools around them, before
the second trumpet-blare sounds.

This is the signal for the withdrawal of the horses. A bull must be
allowed to kill as many as he likes, and then the b