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Cogan looked for the flash of the heavy blade, but already Torellas' right arm had gone forward, that eye of his had marked the little vital spot, and, as the bull lowered his head and lunged to gore him, the blade was driven forward, and onto the point of it rushed the bull. The blade went home clear to the hilt eighteen inches or so.

What matters it whether a man is a muletero, gaucho, toreador, or what? Torellas, now, has been all so have I, her brother-in-law or a seller of hats or a member of the cabinet? What, I ask you' he turned to Cogan 'are we señor? We are men or we are not? So? Very well, let us say no more, but find a café and have our coffee. It has been very dusty to-day very.

"'And Torellas! A torero, yes. But whether a man is muletero, vaquero, or torero, what matters it? Torellas has been all three, and I, too I, her brother-in-law, but what matters it? Luis, my brother, was, oh, so poor when they married, but, my friend, I who say it I, his brother a scamp possibly, yes, but we had family. A handsome boy was Luis, and she I admit it very beautiful and good.

I have seen him burn in one day ten letters yes, his own heart burning for love, you understand. Such a boy! He should be a Seminarian. But her mother, she says it is scandalous! As if he could stop them from writing! He must give up bull-fighting! Torellas give up bull-fighting!

He should be keeled no other way. No. And in the ring there was always a hope to make man pay but in a slaughter-house p-ff-f. And some day, my friend, the bull will obtain his revenge. Have no doubt of it. Bull-fighters die one way all matadors surely. Let them attend to it long enough and no fear some day the bull shall get heem. View Torellas now.

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.

"That night Cogan slipped away from a party of American blue-jackets who wanted to paint Lima in high colors for him, and went down to see Torellas, who had been taken to his home, a fine, large house on a wide street. A crowd was in the street, waiting for word of his condition. "Ferrero met him at the door. 'They wait for you, good friend. "'They? Who?

'He asks me' or so Cogan guessed he said, for now he was speaking Spanish 'he asks me who is Torellas! at which they all craned their necks to get another peek at Cogan, and there was a lot of sputtering talk among them. Cogan guessed that they were saying many very funny things about the man who did not know who Torellas was.

"So far it was clever, neat work on the part of the capeadors, but nothing wonderful, nothing to match Juan's work on the horse. The crowd wanted livelier action, and there were cries of 'Torellas! Torellas! The bugle sounded, and Torellas came.

And Torellas, Juan pounded the table, 'he is a man Pir-r' Juan whirled in his chair 'Pedro, café al instante. Tres, si, si tres. "'But, Juan, asks Ferrero when the coffee came, 'a few months ago we thought "'Exactly we all thought. It is the señora. Listen, Mr. Cogan. You have the warm heart, the friendly eye, you, too, shall know.