rdon. I was excited."

She smiled and in reproof tapped his arm with her fan.

"It is your first bull-fight," she said. "After you have seen more you
will not cry for the death of the man. You Americans, you see, are more
brutal than we. It is because of your prize-fighting. We come only to
see the bull killed."

"But I would the bull had some chance," he answered. "Doubtless, in
time, I shall cease to be annoyed by the men who take advantage of the
bull."

The bugles blew for the death of the bull. Ordonez stood forth with the
sword and the scarlet cloth. But the bull had changed again, and did not
want to fight. Ordonez stamped his foot in the sand, and cried out, and
waved the scarlet cloth. Then the bull charged, but without heart. There
was no weight to the charge. It was a poor thrust. The sword struck
a bone and bent. Ordonez took a fresh sword. The bull, again stung to
fight, charged once more. Five times Ordonez essayed the thrust, and
each time the sword went but part way in or struck bone. The sixth time,
the sword went in to the hilt. But it was a bad thrust. The sword missed
the heart and stuck out half a yard through the ribs on the opposite
side. The audience hissed the matador. I glanced at John Harned. He sat
silent, without movement; but I could see his teeth were set, and his
hands were clenched tight on the railing of the box.

All fight was now out of the bull, and, though it was no vital thrust,
he trotted lamely what of the sword that stuck through him, in one side
and out the other. He ran away from the matador and the capadors, and
circled the edge of the ring, looking up at the many faces.

"He is saying: 'For God's sake let me out of this; I don't want to
fight,'" said John Harned.

That was all. He said no more, but sat and watched, though sometimes
he looked sideways at Maria Valenzuela to see how she took it. She was
angry with the matador. He was awkward, and she had desired a clever
exhibition.

The bull was now very tired, and weak from loss of blood, though far
from dying. He walked slowly around the wall of the ring, seeking a
way out. He would not charge. He had had enough. But he must be killed.
There is a place, in the neck of a bull behind the horns, where the
cord of the spine is unprotected and where a short stab will immediately
kill. Ordonez stepped in front of the bull and lowered his scarlet cloth
to the ground. The bull would not charge. He stood still and smelled t