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He was very quick, and sometimes he turned with such sharpness that his hind legs lost their footing and he plowed the sand with his quarter. But he charged always the flung capes and committed no harm. "He has no chance," said John Harned. "He is fighting wind." "He thinks the cape is his enemy," explained Maria Valenzuela. "See how cleverly the capador deceives him."
Again he ran around the ring, with raised head, looking at the faces of the thousands that hissed him, that threw orange-peel at him and called him names. But the smell of blood decided him, and he charged a capador, so without warning that the man just escaped. He dropped his cape and dodged into the shelter. The bull struck the wall of the ring with a crash.
The capador stepped to the side, with a twirl of the cape eluding the bull and spreading the cape on his own shoulders. "What do you think?" asked Maria Venzuela. "Is it not a what-you-call sporting proposition no?" "It is certainly," said John Harned. "It is very clever." She clapped her hands with delight. They were little hands. The audience applauded. The bull turned and came back.
Then it charged, with lowered head, straight for the lone capador. It is always of interest, the first charge of the first bull. After a time it is natural that one should grow tired, trifle, that the keenness should lose its edge. But that first charge of the first bull!
It is a light vocation for elderly gentlemen and pensioners." "But see!" said Maria Valenzuela, as the bull charged bravely and the capador eluded it with a fling of his cape. "It requires skill so to avoid the beast." "True," said John Harned.
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